


my bonny light horseman

by lilithqueen



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Agatha Learns Something She Did Not Know Before, Agatha Opens Up A New Option For Zeuxippe's Future, And The First Date Goes Very Well, At Least Maxim Is The Only One Being Mocked Mercilessly, Dana Has Gossip, Dimo Is Totally Not Slacking Off, F/M, Mamma Gkika Approves, Maxim Becomes A Romantic Hero, Maxim Gets To Eat Most Of A Sandwich, Maxim Is Promoted, Maxim Is Prone To Exaggeration, Maxim Loses An Argument (For Now), Maxim Tries Something Stupid, Maxim's Regiment Ships The Thing, Maxim's Sordid Past Comes To Light, Neither Do Zeuxippe's Friends, Non-Linear Narrative, Ognian Does Not Approve, Our Lovers Forget To Lock The Door, Zeuxippe Changes Forever, Zeuxippe Falls In Loyalty Like She Falls In Love, Zeuxippe Is A Course Hazard, Zeuxippe Is Decaffeinated, Zeuxippe Is Good With Hair, Zeuxippe Puts Her Sewing Skills To Good Use, Zeuxippe Would Make A Great Jaeger, Zeuxippe's First Battle, Zeuxippe's Friends Are Awful, Zeuxippe's Friends Have Strong Opinions, Zeuxippe's Friends Make A Suggestion For SCIENCE, dealing primarily with the things that happen during the timeskip, now with porn!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 31,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithqueen/pseuds/lilithqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Odds and ends and drabbles revolving around Maxim/Zeuxippe. I might eventually knit them together into a coherent story, but don't hold your breath.</p><p>Chapter 24 is the one that bumps it up to a Mature rating so if you don't want to read smut you can just skip that one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in which Ognian disapproves of Maxim's life choices

“Hyu haz a _date_.”

“Yah.”

“Vit _Old Man Death’s granddaughter_.”

“Yah.”

Oggie stared at him. “…Vell, it vos nize knowink hyu.”

Maxim blinked. “Vot? Hy told hyu, de old man iz fine, und even de shop didn’t vind up too busted…”

“It dun matter.” Oggie dismissed his friend’s words with a wave of his hand that came perilously close to knocking over his beer mug. “Hyu iz a Jaeger showink up at hiz door askink, ‘hoy ken Hy take hyu precious granddaughter out on a date.’ Eef dot vos _my_ granddaughter, Hy’d toss hyu out on hyu hat.”

Oggie did have a point. Maxim mulled that over before a memory surfaced through the mists of decades past. “…Oggie, hyu granddaughter _did_ date a Jaeger.”

He snorted. “Bogdan vos properly terrified ov me. _Und_ her. _Hyu_ probably used de line about de _horse_.”

Actually, Maxim privately thought it more likely that Bogdan had been terrified of Ognian’s wife—Marica hadn’t been Sparky, but her commanding tone could have put any one of the Old Heterodynes to shame. It had triggered latent minioning instincts in everything larger than a housecat. “…Her name iz Zeuxippe. She iz _beautiful_. Und she hit me vit a jar ov pickled olives.” He shrugged. “Besides, Hy ken be sottil.”

Oggie looked him up and down. “…Hyu used de line about de horse, didn’t hyu.”

His glass of brandy really was fascinating, wasn’t it. “…Mebbe.”

Oggie sighed. “In front ov her grandpa.” His tone suggested that if anyone had used that line on his granddaughter in his presence, they would find themselves invited for dinner as the main course, and only sheer dumb luck had saved Maxim.

“Bot _sometink_ must haff vorked, she _smiled_ at me.” The memory of that smile—a little smirk, really, barely a twitch of her lips as she slipped the note into his hand—still made something in the vicinity of his heart do a backflip.

Oggie considered this point. “Hokay, mebbe hyu ken pull it off. Eef hyu dun do anyting schtupid.”

“…Hyu vote of confidenze means _zo_ much to me.”

He made a mental note to show up with flowers anyway.


	2. in which Zeuxippe's choices are brought into question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't actually the one I intended to write next, but it wouldn't leave me alone! Zeuxippe needs a friend, so I gave a name to the other waitress we see in the short she appears in. The "tea" referred to here is, according to Word of Foglio, distilled from Trusty Maiden Weed, which prevents "pregnancy as well as a number of embarrassing diseases." If you can find the source link for that information, your google-fu is stronger than mine.

“Zeuxippe, have you lost your mind?!”

Zeuxippe didn’t look up from the table she was wiping, instead leaning forward to scrub at a particularly stubborn mustard stain. “I have no idea what you’re referring to, Domnica.”

Domnica’s round figure and explosive curls usually gave off the impression of a particularly exuberant small bird. Her current attempt at looking serious and imposing wasn’t working very well. “You! You and—“ She waved her hands, spluttering. “That Jaeger!”

Oh. Right. She felt her face heat up, and was very glad her fellow waitress couldn’t see her blush. “There’s nothing wrong with Jaegers. I thought I saw _you_ getting pretty cozy with that other one, with the horn.”

Domnica was actually struck speechless; when she regained her voice, it came out in a squawk. “I—you—that’s not at all the same thing! He was cute, but—that wasn’t _serious_. You asked yours out! Do you even know his _name_?”

Zeuxippe wrung out her washrag and dunked it in the soap bucket, moving onto wiping down the nearest chair. “Grandpa called him Maxim. Apparently they were in the cavalry together; he seemed happy to see him.”

“…Before or after he threw him through the window?”

She bit her lip. “I think that’s normal for Jaegers. I mean, I knocked him silly with the olive jar and he—“ She pressed her fingers to her cheek, hoping their coolness would mitigate the heat she felt rearing its head again.

"He _what_.” The acid in Domnica’s voice could etch glass.

She cracked a smile despite herself. Domnica was the _best_ friend. “Well…well. He called me pretty.” The attending pickup line had been admittedly fairly terrible, but terrible enough to edge over into “endearing.” _And it took some guts to say that in front of Grandpa!_

“So just because he called you pretty, you’re going to go…where, exactly? Do you even have a plan?”

“…Um.” Someone had evidently dropped an entire bat sandwich on the chair and sat on it; it was a situation that deserved her full concentration.

“You don’t! _Zeuxippe_.” Domnica shook her head. “I hope his manners are as fine as his clothes.”

She shrugged. “Oh, I’ll bring the big boning knife.”

“…Hrm.” Domnica thought hard for a moment. “…Too flexible. Bring the steak knife.”

“Domnica, you are a blessing.”

“And don’t forget to take your tea!”

Zeuxippe threw the washrag at her.


	3. in which Maxim's dignity is soundly mocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was directly inspired by my listening to the Les Mis soundtrack one too many times and getting to the part in "Red & Black" where Grantaire is like
> 
> _I am agog!_  
>  _I am aghast!_  
>  _Is Marius in love at last?_  
>  _I have never heard him 'ooh' and 'aah'_  
>  _You talk of battles to be won_  
>  _But here he comes like Don Juan_  
>  _It's better than an opera!_
> 
> And then I went "...yeah this needs to happen to Maxim." This takes place about six months after the first two chapters.

Calling it a “war room” was probably a stretch, but the repurposed cavern where Dimo usually gave out orders and assignments to the scouts and met with them when they returned had achieved something of an official status in the weeks since Mechanicsburg had frozen. It had more than its fair share of maps, for one thing. For another, the general mood tended to be serious (which for Jaegers meant “less fighting than normal”).

Dimo frowned as the day’s scout rotation filed in. “Ve iz missink Maxim.”

Oggie and Tudor looked at each other and back to Dimo. Oggie shrugged the shoulder his halberd wasn’t propped on. “Haffen’t seen him since…” His gaze drifted to the ceiling. “…Last night, Hy tink.”

Dimo rubbed his forehead. “Vunderful. Und hyu deedn’t go fetch him.”

Being carved of stone, the caverns had excellent acoustics. The sound of hard-soled riding boots clicking on the stone at great speed announced Maxim’s arrival well before the Jaeger himself skidded into the room and caught himself on the chair. Dimo raised an eyebrow at him, taking in his hastily-buttoned shirt and ruffled hair. “Hyu iz late.”

Maxim flushed. Far from looking contrite, a grin was starting to spread across his face. “Hy vos busy.”

Oggie looked him over and smirked. “Ho, yah. ‘Busy,’ iz dot vot ve iz callink it?”

He slowly turned the color of a ripe eggplant, grin fading a few notches. “Schott opp.”

“Hyu shirt iz missink buttons, hyu _schmell_ like her, und—“ Oggie’s eyes narrowed, and his smirk took on an edge of triumph. “Hyu haz teeth marks on hyu neck. Yah, hyu vos busy.”

Maxim punched him in the arm. “Pft, hyu iz chust jealous.” His voice took on a wistful tone Dimo would bet money he wasn’t aware of. “She iz _vunderful_.”

“…Oooh, hyu iz in _luff_.” Oggie, unfortunately for Maxim’s dignity, was clearly having a very perceptive day. “Hy neffer thot Hy’d see de day! Dimo, vot day iz eet, Hy haff to mark dis down az a celebration—“

Dimo lunged across the table to haul Maxim back by his cloak. “Eediots! Ve haff scoutink do to, hyu ken fight later.”

He looked over his scouts with a sigh. Oggie looked smug, Tudor was rolling his eyes, and Maxim—once his cloak was released—was glowering at his friend in a manner that suggested “later” would be quite painful if Oggie brought up the state of his love life again.

He wasn’t sure if either of them actually absorbed more than one word in five of his briefing, but truthfully he couldn’t blame them too much. There was already a betting pool on whether Maxim would wind up proposing.


	4. in which there is a first date

It had been a nice date, which in itself was a bit of a shock. Maxim had shown up with an actually clean shirt on, hat perched firmly on his head, carrying a bouquet of flowers, and riding something that he insisted was (and Zeuxippe supposed had to count as) a horse.

It had to be a horse. It was horse-shaped. There were hooves and a mane.* She’d still eyed it warily until Maxim scooped her up (effortlessly, making her gasp a little) to sit behind him.

There’d been a picnic, and at some point they’d wound up sprawled on her least favorite quilt with her curled up against his chest as they talked, too full from their sandwiches to move much. Evidently a surprising number of her more annoying customers reminded him of his past misadventures, and to her surprise he was a fairly good storyteller (with a very nice laugh, she noticed) (not that she was specifically Noticing anything else about him, like his arms or his lips or how very well-fitted his trousers were, _thank you Domnica_ ).

The sun had been warm and his arm slung around her had been warmer. It could have lulled her to sleep if not for the faint pressure of his claws against her side reminding her of exactly what she was doing, and who she was doing it with. His fangs, when he spoke, still looked sharp.

They looked sharp now, in the light of the setting sun, as he turned his mount towards her home and looked back at her over his shoulder. “Iz late for hyu, yah?”

“Iz—“ The accent was _contagious_. “It’s not too late. But thanks.” The wind picked up, and she shivered in her short-sleeved dress.

He returned his gaze to the road, but she swore she could hear the smirk. “Hyu iz cold, dollink? Hy vill keep hyu varm.”

She smacked his shoulder; it would have made a human stagger, but he didn’t flinch. “You are insufferable.”

“Bot hyu like me ennyvay.”

“Hrmph.” She hid a smile against his back. “Maybe I do.”

Soon—too soon—they were at the door. The shop was dark; no lights burned in the upstairs window, and she said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever was listening that her grandfather wasn’t waiting up for them. Maxim slid from the saddle as graceful as water and turned to help her down, his arms around her waist to steady her.

When her boots touched the ground, he didn’t let go. She looked up to meet his gaze; in the shadows cast by his hat, his eyes gleamed. His voice was a quiet purr. “Vell. Today vos goot, yah?”

“I—yeah. It was good.” The wool of his jacket must have once been rough, but time and repeated washings had worn it to comfortable softness as she slid one arm around him. Her free hand slid up his arm to his shoulder, tugging him closer.

His gaze flickered to her lips and back up to her eyes. “Ve should do it again.”

“We should. Later.” She held his gaze, quirking an eyebrow at him. “But now, I’d really like to know if you are going to kiss me or not.”

His hand skimmed up her spine, cradling the back of her neck as he leaned down and tilted his head and _oh_ his lips were soft. She crushed herself against him, hooking her thumb into his sword belt and digging her fingers into his shoulder for leverage as she kissed him back, felt him growl into her mouth. She could just barely feel his fangs, more shadows of the idea of sharpness than true cutting edges.

She broke away for air just long enough to catch sight of how heated his gaze was before leaning up again, tangling her fingers in his hair (it really was as soft as it looked) to pull him down to her again. This time he didn’t seal his mouth to hers, instead trailing kisses over her jaw and down her throat and. Oh. _There_ were those fangs, delicate little pinpricks that made her shiver but didn’t do anything at all to detract from the wonderful wet heat of his mouth tracing the curve of her throat. He mouthed at the spot where her neck met her shoulder and she made a desperate little gasp in his ear. “Ah—Maxim—“ Teeth grazed her skin, and thoughts scattered for a long moment before she managed, “We—should _probably_ stop—“

He lifted his head, sucking in a deep breath, and pulled away. “Hah.”

She wasn’t sure whether the racing heartbeats she felt were his or hers. She thought it was probably both; she was painfully, achingly aware of all the places their bodies were pressed together (and those trousers really didn’t hide very much, _damn_ ). It was only through sheer will that she made herself let go of him and take a step back. “I had…a _really_ great time. How does Friday sound? For our second date?”

He nodded; his body language was clearly striving for ‘casual’ as he smoothed his hair back, but it didn’t quite manage it. A few strands of hair got stuck in the joints of his metal glove.** “Hy vill be here. See hyu den, sveethot?”

“Yeah, see you then.” She wanted to kiss him again. The voice of propriety in her head (which sounded suspiciously like her mother but also unnervingly like Domnica) warned against it. She smiled at him instead as she slipped inside.

Once she was in the pitch-dark shop, safely hidden from view, she slid down against the door and muffled her giggles in her hands.

 

 

 

* There were also scales, spikes, and what seemed to be fangs. To her great surprise, it liked having its nose scratched.

** Really, if Lady Heterodyne didn’t get to fixing his hand soon, she was going to take a horse to Mechanicsburg and have Words with her, Heterodyne or not! With the glove, Maxim’s fingers didn’t bend properly, making flexing his hand properly almost impossible and sending stabbing pains up his wrist if he tried to so much as rest his weight on it. Without the glove, it was worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Maxim's specific issues with his bad hand are in fact my specific issues with the exact same hand (tl;dr the fingers don't have the same range of motion as normal peoples' hands; I can't touch all my fingers to my thumb nor bring my fingers and thumb together, and my index finger doesn't like being bent for any length of time). NERVE DAMAGE IS FUN. (don't feel bad for me though, I was Size Tiny when I was born and that shit happens when you're trying to operate on something the same length as a hot dog)


	5. in which zeuxippe's friends weigh in on her love life

The rest of Zeuxippe’s week was usually a blur of waitressing, sandwich-making, and resisting the urge to slap Herr Neugebauer’s leering grandson across the face, but Sunday afternoons were sacred. Besides being one of her two days off each week, they were the days set aside for coffee with her friends. No excuse short of death would induce her to miss Coffee Day, and it was usually something that had her bouncing on her feet all Sunday morning.

This particular Sunday morning saw much less bouncing. She drifted through her hours at the shop, hefting trays and taking orders with a smile that was absolutely not for her customers. Her shawl was a bit too warm for the weather, but she didn’t risk removing it where her grandpa or Domnica could see. _Last night was…wonderful. And I’m going to see him on Friday!_

“Zeuxippe, I didn’t know you liked your job this much.” Her train of thought screeched to a stop, rolled, and derailed into a mountain as she hastened to think of something upsetting (the Potato Salad Incident of ’88 would have to do) and rearranged her smile into something that didn’t threaten to expose the residual glee under it. “I’m off in five, grandpa!”

“Hrm.” He eyed the customers. “You’re on closing.”

A sandwich shop was never cleaned so quickly. It went much faster with Domnica’s help, though the girl kept eying her and looked as though she desperately wanted to say something.

She managed to hold in her curiosity until they locked up. “So?”

Zeuxippe hoped her blush could be explained as a result of their work. “So…what?”

Domnica latched onto her arm as they walked. “So, how was your date? Tell me!”

She ducked her head, smoothing her hair back into its bun. “I’ll tell you at the café.” The walk would give her some time to prepare.

It wasn’t long enough. As they rounded the corner and saw Maria and Anneliese waiting for them, Zeuxippe had to fight a sudden urge to claim a catastrophic headache. Domnica, naturally, wasted precisely no time; her announcement of “Zeuxippe had a _date_ yesterday!” rang out before they’d even sat down.

“She _what_?”

“Our Zeuxippe? No way!”

“What’s his name? Do we know him? Is he cute?”

“What’s he do for a living?”

“Um.” She was saved from having to respond right away by the timely arrival of the nearest waiter. “The usual, please.”

“Same for me.”

“And me.”

“Me too—so!” Maria leaned across the table, tucking a stray strand of red hair under her hat. “Tell us about this guy!”

“Oh, God,” she muttered, feeling her face heat up. “Um. His name’s Maxim, and you don’t know him. But he’s handsome, really sweet, he’s a total gentleman, he showed up on a _horse_ , even—“

“And he’s a Jaeger.” Domnica managed to suggest a leering waggle of her eyebrows without, as far as Zeuxippe could tell, actually moving them.

“Traitor,” Zeuxippe grumbled over their friends’ gasps.

Domnica made her eyes very wide, assuming an air of innocence that didn’t fool Zeuxippe for a second. “He is! Were you not going to tell them?”

She was saved from an immediate response by coffee cups being placed on the table, and took her time adding cream and sugar to hers before testing it with a careful sip. “Of course! Just…not like _that_ , Domnica, my God!”

“So you’re living dangerously!” Anneliese’s grin wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Jaeger; on a tiny blonde woman, it was slightly terrifying. “Is it true what they say about them?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Settling herself primly in her seat, she returned her attention to her coffee. Her shawl slid down her arms; she ignored it.

“I bet he’d be happy to _show_ you—”

“Is he that purple all over?” Domnica’s delighted tone abruptly shifted, and she set her cup down hard. “ _Zeuxippe,_ _what are those_.”

She looked up, blinking, and then slowly followed Domnica’s gaze to her own collarbone. “Ah.”

“Those are _hickies_. Big ones!” She shook her head, but her eyes were gleaming. “See, and you threw the dishrag at me when I said you should take your tea just in case! She really did, you know.”

“For shame!” Anneliese hadn’t even touched her coffee; the conversation was far more important. “I hope you were taking precautions. Was he _good_ , at least?”

The kisses had effectively seared themselves into her memory. If she thought about it, she swore she could still feel the pressure of his fangs against her skin. She hid her face in her hands. “Anne!” After a moment, she muttered, “…He’s a really good kisser, I’ll give him that.”

“…What, that’s it?”

She sank down in her seat. Maybe if she closed her eyes it would magically be less embarrassing. “It was the first date! That’s as far as we went…”

“And he kept his hands to himself?” Domnica’s tone suggested she’d happily chop them off if the answer was ‘no.’

“Did you take the bread knife?”

“Yes!” Her voice came out in a squeak. “But I didn’t need it—like I said, he was a gentleman.”

“Mm- _hmm_.” Maria frowned. “Are you going to see him again?”

She couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. “We’ve got another date planned for Friday.”

Thankfully, that seemed to be the phrase that got her friends off the general topic of the advisability of dating Jaegers and onto the specific one of “appropriate attire for a second date with someone that loves a) violence and b) hats,” which was a much more enjoyable way to spend several hours (even if it did involve quite a bit of suggestive leering).

On Thursday, the stasis field came down over Mechanicsburg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a truly ridiculous amount of fun writing this. I am 100% not sorry.


	6. in which a sandwich is made, but only partially eaten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick timeline note: this one takes place before and a bit after Ch. 3, so around six months after the other chapters. One day I will reorder the chapters so they're in rough chronological order, but that day is not this day.

The caverns probably hadn’t been meant to hold so many civilians, but those who were still loyal to the Heterodynes (or just didn’t want to risk even the possibility of getting eaten by rabid constructs or killed by jumped-up Sparks with delusions of grandeur) had been welcomed in anyway. After a great deal of familial debate, that included Zeuxippe’s family.

It had taken surprisingly little time for her grandfather to integrate himself into the caverns’ daily routine; a good number of Jaegers recognized him from his younger days or had challenged him for his hat, and they were always hungry. Zeuxippe was an unknown, but it generally only took a thwack from the nearest heavy object or a warning mutter of “dot’s _Old Man Death’s granddaughter_ ” (or, occasionally, “Maxim’s girl,” which had made her blush for hours when she first heard it) to keep them in line. After a while, she even managed to fall into a routine. It did help that the scout rotation never varied for anything short of severe maiming, and a Jaeger’s definition of “severe maiming” usually didn’t involve anything less than missing multiple limbs.

A particular Wednesday night found her in the larder, knife in one hand and loaf of only slightly stale rye bread in the other. She said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had thought to organize their meat stores by rough category of source animal (disturbingly, there was one for “unverifiable”) and pulled out a likely-looking slab of pork tenderloin. Quick, steady motions were already carving it into paper-thin slices when a thought occurred to her that made her groan out loud.

The hallway outside was nearly empty, but there was a Jaeger passing by. “Hey!” Belatedly, his name popped into her head. “Tomas, right?”

He looked her up and down, clearly bored. “Yah?”

“Do you know where the green mustard is?”

He nodded, gaze drifting past her.

She felt a twitch starting up in her left eyelid. “Well, where is it?”

“Vot hyu need it for? Hyu ken’t vait until tomorrow—ygrk.”

Zeuxippe had been up since dawn, she’d barely seen her boyfriend all day, and her already-fraying patience needed no encouragement to snap. Before she even thought about it, her knife was pressed against the Jaeger’s throat. He was faster than her, stronger than her, but she abruptly didn’t care. “I need it now, _thank you_.”

“…Hy vos goink to eat dot…” But he was already pulling away, heaving a terribly put-upon sigh. “Hyu iz a _demon_ , no vunder Maxim vill not schott opp about hyu. Hy vill fetch it.”

She was still grinning when she used the mustard to draw little hearts on the inside of the sandwich; she doubted Maxim would notice, but it was the thought that counted.

~~

“Ho, hyu packed a lunch!”

Without looking up, Maxim reached over his shoulder, grabbed Tudor’s arm, and twisted. “Yah, _Hy_ packed a lunch. Iz not for _hyu_.”

Oggie glanced over at them from the log he was perched on. “Hy thot Hy schmelled sometink goot. Vot hyu got?”

Maxim ignored him, shoving half the sandwich into his mouth in one bite in a blatant hint to get Oggie to leave him alone.

Tudor, unfortunately, wasn’t so easily dissuaded. “Iz pork tenderloin und—ho, iz dat green mustard? Vhere did hyu get dat, Hy thot ve vere out ov dot schtuff!”

Maxim chewed pointedly and unnecessarily before grumbling, “Zeuxippe.”

“Aww, she made hyu a sammich! Dot’s so sveet.” To Maxim’s mild surprise, Tudor actually sounded genuine.

Oggie, on the other hand, smirked. “Eet iz, yah? Zo ven’s de veddink?”

Maxim lunged for him, teeth bared. The resulting fight attracted a gator-bear construct and its mate, but it was worth it.

If nothing else, gator-bears made good eating, since Tudor had stolen the other half of his sandwich. (Maxim punched him for that. There had been hearts on it.)

 


	7. in which there is cuddling and also hairstyles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place several months or so after chapters 3 and 6.

Zeuxippe was not a morning person, but there were some things worth waking up a little early for. Maxim, she decided as she caught her breath, was definitely one of them. “Well. Good morning to you, too.”

He grinned, stretching lazily under her like a great smug cat, and carded his fingers through her hair. He didn’t appear to notice that her teeth in his shoulder had broken skin again, but she supposed that wasn’t even a wound worth mentioning for a Jaeger. He’d very definitely noticed when she’d done it, though. “Mm-hmm.”

His hand brushed against a fresh set of scratches, and she shivered happily. As careful and delicate as he made sure to be with her, it didn’t make his claws any less sharp. “But…there is a little problem.”

“Mm?”

She gave up all pretense of propping herself up on her elbows, letting herself melt against his chest. His heartbeat thudded steadily against her ear, and she sighed and curled in closer. The sheets had long since wound up on the floor, but he was wonderfully warm and made a very comfortable pillow. “I don’t want to move.”

He huffed into her hair, one arm tightening just a bit around her waist. “Hyu und me both, bot Hy haff patrol today.”

She sighed heavily. “Right. You’re right. We should both get dressed.” The loss of his warmth was a miserable experience, but she rolled over in bed ( _ow_ , her back twinged but she’d had worse) and watched, fighting the urge to bury herself into the mattress, as he gathered his clothing. When he pulled his hair out of the way to shrug his shirt on, she allowed herself a smug grin at the glimpse of the scratches she’d managed to leave across his shoulders and all down his back.

And then, sighing, she sat up. “Can you throw me my drawers?”

He picked them up, poking at the rips in them. “Hyu iz sure hyu vant to vear dese?”

She couldn’t help but grimace. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Shrugging, he tossed her clothes at her and started undoing his glove, grumbling with each faint whirr and clink. It was probably Russian and most likely obscene; as she pulled her own clothes on, she made a mental note to ask him to teach her some of the best ones later.

Her shirt was over her head when she heard him snarl, and she yanked it down to see what was going on. “…What are you doing?”

He growled, fingers of his bad hand trembling where they were buried in his hair. “Hy iz _tryink_ to braid my hair. Dyink in battle iz a fine death; dyink in battle becawze it vos a leetle _vindy_ iz chust embarrassing.”

She eyed his hair. In the dim light, it almost looked truly black instead of the deep purple revealed by full daylight. Looking at it, she supposed she could see the beginning of a braid. “Come here; I’ll do it.” He sat down on the edge of the bed so she could reach, letting her curl up behind him and slide her hands through his hair. It was thick and soft, and he didn’t wince when her fingers caught in tangles.

She did, though. “Comb.”

He fumbled through the drawer in the rickety nightstand they’d repurposed from a broken end table and found a comb with most of its teeth still attached; instead of slipping it into her hand immediately, he caught her fingers in a gentle but firm grip and pressed a kiss to them. “Haff Hy told hyu hyu iz too good to me?”

She blushed, smiling at him. “Maybe.”

“Den Hy iz not sayink it enuff.”

Instead of continuing, he tilted his head back into her hands and closed his eyes, purring quietly as she worked at the tangles in his hair. It was an entrancing sound, and she found herself humming tunelessly along with it as her unoccupied hand traced the side of his neck and the edge of his ear, just firmly enough not to tickle. The skin there was thin, the bites and marks she’d left contrasting deeply against all that violet. Really, he was beautiful and it wasn’t fair at all. Though she knew their time was limited—he had to patrol, and she wasn’t looking forward to her canteen duty—she couldn’t resist running her fingers through his hair one last time before sectioning it into three.

“Mrrrr…dot’s nize.” His fingers ran over her knee where it was pressed against his thigh. “Hy vunder if dey vill notice if Hy chust don’t leave—“

She tugged his hair sharply. “Oh, no. If they don’t miss you, they’ll _definitely_ miss me, and Grandpa will kill you.”

“Hrmph. Hyu iz zo cruel vit hyu all logic und hyu sense-makink.” She caught the edge of a smile before he returned to holding himself still to let her work.

“But you like me anyway.” His hair was long, but she’d been braiding hair since she was tiny; as she reached the end, she leaned forward to press a kiss to the back of his neck, just above his collar.

She didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning. “Hy _said_ hyu iz cruel, sveethot.”

“Heh.” She snatched up one of her hair ribbons to tie off the end of his braid; it was a shade of green that did not at all go with the rest of his clothes, but as far as she was concerned a man that willingly wore aqua-and-orange socks could deal with it.* “There, it’s done.” When he didn’t move, she shoved him until he stood up. “Go on, I’ll see you later.”

He shoved his glove back on and settled his hat on his head, ticking at the rings in the brim with his claws until they hung correctly. “Yah, haff a nize day.” He seemed about to stride across the room before thinking better of it, leaning down and pressing his mouth firmly to hers. “Thenk hyu.”

She swore she felt the heat of his lips long after he left.

 

* Evidently they were Dimo’s fault; he knitted. Zeuxippe grudgingly had to admit he wasn’t bad at it, but the _colors_ …


	8. in which our lovers battle (almost) side-by-side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Chapter Five, so you may or may not want to read that first.

He didn’t show up on Friday. Part of her had known it was going to happen when the stasis field went up and news started filtering in from Mechanicsburg, but it had no power against the part that wanted to throw herself onto her bed and stay there until better things materialized. She took so long undoing her hair from the rag curlers she’d put in the night before that her grandpa knocked on the door to ask if she was planning on coming downstairs or not.

On Sunday, a Jaeger she didn’t know stormed into the shop, pressed a letter into her hand, and raced out before she could even form a question. Domnica took one look at her face and pressed her into an empty chair. “I’ll cover you.”

It was tattered and slightly singed, addressed to her (and spelled correctly, which in her opinion rated a kiss at the least) in a shaky, scrawling hand that suggested its author had trouble with their wrist. She swallowed hard and unfolded it.

_~I am sorry. I will visit when I can. Maxim_

“It’s from _him_ , isn’t it.”

Her grandpa did not sound pleased; she took a deep breath before nodding in acknowledgement.“He says he’s sorry, and he’ll visit.”

“Hrmph.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s chaos out there; I’m not surprised he didn’t show. But for his sake, he’d better grovel _really well_ the next time he shows his face around here.”

“…” She folded the letter and slipped it into her apron pocket. “Grandpa, you know glass windows don’t grow on trees.”

He grunted, one leathery hand landing on her shoulder in a gesture she was pretty sure was meant to be comforting. “He upset my favorite granddaughter. There’s going to be a reckoning for that.”

“…I’m your _only_ granddaughter.”

“Details! C’mon, up you get, I see people at table five.”

The world might be crumbling around the edges, but some things—like waitressing—were eternal. She picked herself up and dove back into her job. Maxim (and the inevitable Coffee Day dissection of every stroke of the pen in his letter) could wait.

On Wednesday the alarm bells chimed frantically through the town, guardsmen rushing to their posts to defend their homes and loved ones against someone calling himself Professor Snappkopf and his horde of ox-wolf constructs. Zeuxippe slid one of her grandpa’s old knives into a sheath on her belt, but the mere threat of death and dismemberment wasn’t enough to deter the sandwich shop regulars from getting their fix. The town was close enough to Mechanicsburg that any actual danger was relative, anyway.

And then the first construct leapt through the window they’d just replaced the day before, and as far as Zeuxippe could tell all hell broke loose.

Her grandpa hopped over the counter with a cleaver in one hand and a carving knife in the other, bellowing a war cry in Old Mechanicsburger and hacking into the construct before it could attack the couple sitting at table three. Orange blood sprayed over them anyway before they could take cover, and the man screamed. Zeuxippe couldn’t blame him. She thought she might be sick; it was all she could do to set her tray of drinks down on the nearest table before she dropped them. At least the customers were clearing out at great speed, and the ox-wolf was a lot slower once her grandpa chopped one of its paws off. Carefully, she started inching towards the door.

From outside, Domnica screamed. Zeuxippe grabbed up her skirts in one hand and broke out in a dead sprint, scrambling out into the street.

Her first, absurd thought was _Oh, all that blood looks strange in the sunlight_. The man Domnica had been serving was very dead; Domnica herself was on her back, only a broken and overturned table between her and the construct salivating down at her. There was blood on her face and dripping from her dress.

Zeuxippe had been brought up to be a good, respectable girl. Combat training had not been included in her lessons.* But that was her best friend, and _damned_ if she was going to stand by and let her die! Stealth and tactics were utterly foreign concepts in the face of the rage that swept through her; before she could think, she was sprinting forward with her knife in her hand.

The constructs were nearly horse-sized and covered in thick fur, with their heads crowned by massive bulls’ horns, but a sharp knife to the back of the neck, just behind the skull, could kill _anything_. Once the knife went in—the ox-wolf howled—she leaned hard into the motion, driving it in deep until the construct collapsed limply onto the table.

Domnica was watching her with wide, terrified eyes. “Zeuzi…”

She blinked down at her friend. “You’re not hurt, are you? It’s safer inside—go!” Blood was roaring in her ears, and her own voice sounded too far away.

“I—“

An entire pack of ox-wolves charged down the street at them; with a muffled shriek of frustration, Zeuxippe wrenched her knife free of the gap between vertebrae it was wedged into. Above the constructs’ howls and roars, though, different noises rang out.

Laughter. Delighted, cackling, half-mad laughter, and the thunder of hooves with a gait that no normal horse could ever have. As the ox-wolves ran and snapped, she spotted Jaegers on their mounts, weapons flashing in the sunlight as they circled and struck. They were slowing them, giving the civilians time to run.

Unfortunately, not enough time. Jaeger mounts were fast—Maxim had been happy enough to nudge his into a full-fledged gallop to show her just how fast**—but the ox-wolves were better sprinters. Zeuxippe shoved Domnica roughly in the direction of the shop and hefted her knife; behind her, she could hear her grandpa charging into the fray, but the ox-wolf lunging over the body of its fallen comrade was going to reach her before he did.

A sword slammed through its back, and Maxim grinned broadly at her from the saddle. His clothes were blood-splattered, but none of it was his. “Hallo, sveethot! Thenks for savink some ov de fightink for me!”

“Hoy, captain, mebbe a bit less flirtink und a bit more stabbink?” That was definitely another Jaeger, but she didn’t know who. She couldn’t look away from Maxim’s face.

He doffed his hat to her, lightly, and wheeled his mount into the fray with a whoop. The carnage didn’t touch her; still, she didn’t dare move in case she got in the way. In what seemed like a ridiculously short amount of time, the street was full of dead or dying ox-wolves and mostly unharmed Jaegers, and Maxim was slamming his saber back into its sheath, sliding off his mount, and striding over to her as easily as he might in a ballroom. She had the idea she ought to be smiling, but she couldn’t quite get her facial muscles to agree.

“Well. You’re late.” She cringed internally as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

“Hy said Hy vos sorry.” He smiled anyway, reaching up with his bare hand to wipe a splatter of orange blood off her cheek with his thumb. “Bot Hy see Hy am late again, missink hyu first real fight. Iz a good choice ov veapon.”

Ah, _there_ was her smile; evidently her synapses had finally gotten the message. “We were out of pickled olives.”

“Ah, zo hyu improvise. Schmott gurl.” That was a purr so quiet, she knew she was the only one who’d heard it; it was all the warning she got before he finally leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.

She melted. Her knife clattered somewhere on the cobblestones, but she didn’t care; she was alive, and Maxim was warm and solid and safe and _there_ , and so both arms needed to be free to wrap around him. His gloved hand at her back held her to him as solidly as an iron bar, claws digging lightly into her shirt; when she slid her tongue past his lips she was pretty sure he might have snagged them in the weave, but there were clearly more important things to worry about. Like the fact that he actually seemed to purr when she raked her fingers through his hair, sending his hat tumbling down his back.***

There was a rustle, a snarl, and a nasty squelching sound behind her as one of the dying ox-wolves turned out to not be quite dead. She ignored it; Maxim’s bare hand had wound up at her hip, and the sheer heat of it even through her layers of skirt and petticoats was sending fire racing through her veins. When she pulled him closer, he growled somewhere low in his throat.

“That don’t look like groveling to _me_.”

They broke apart, Zeuxippe feeling like a bucket of ice water had just wound up in her veins. Judging by the look on his face, Maxim felt the same. Her grandpa frowned at them both, cleaning his bloody cleaver pointedly. “And where’ve you been since you’ve been standing my granddaughter up, eh?”

There was a snicker from the assembled Jaegers; Zeuxippe glanced over to see a gray one in a red uniform scribbling something in a very small notebook as it grinned. Maxim scratched the back of his neck. “Ve…found a safe place. Iz a long story.”

Her grandpa’s eyes narrowed. “Talk.”

 

 

* Though dealing with the coalition of both the Neugebauer girls and Deborah Schuler had given her a surprisingly well-rounded grasp of basic hand-to-hand fighting when outnumbered by larger opponents.

** Maxim rode like he was born in the saddle; she supposed he might as well have been, if he’d been a warrior for so long. It had actually been exhilarating once she got over the conviction that her stomach had been left behind several miles ago.

*** Completely unnoticed by Our Two Lovers, this could have turned out very badly for Maxim’s dignity if not for the fact that “takink a Jaeger’s hat ven dey iz clearly not thinkink vit de head on dere _shoulders_ iz cheatink.”


	9. in which zeuxippe learns something new

It wasn’t even an office, more like a glorified closet with just enough space for a table and chair, but it was out of the way and—currently—quiet. Dimo kicked his booted feet up onto the table, tugged his hat down, and closed his eyes. If his luck held, he might actually be able to catch a midafternoon nap without anyone desperately needing “the General’s” input on anything.

He was drifting somewhere in the hazy realm between sleep and full alertness when the door creaked. Moving required effort; snarling a warning did not.

“Oh! Sorry.”

Wait, he knew that voice. And that scent. (Maxim’s, mostly, but also not. There wasn’t a pool for it, but he’d still bet money that neither of them knew just how much they smelled like each other.) He pried one eye open, glowering at what he could see of Zeuxippe past the door she’d cautiously poked her head around. “Vot hyu vant?”

She hesitated. “…I don’t want to bother you…”

“Hy iz already avake, hyu might as vell.” He sat up with a sigh, only barely managing not to fall over backwards as he set his feet on the floor again. He _really_ needed a bigger office.

“Um.” She fidgeted a little, gaze drifting somewhere around the plume in his hat. “I heard you’re really good at throwing knives. I know you’re busy, but I was wondering if you could give me a few tips or something? ”

Hrm. He should have expected that, really; last week’s attack by Professor Terwinkle and her golden bear-clanks had seen a remarkable number of civilians asking for combat lessons. Still, part of him had (stupidly) assumed that Zeuxippe would be more comfortable learning from her boyfriend. The fondness for knives should’ve been a hint. He grinned, feeling abruptly much more cheerful. “Tips? Hey, Hy could teach hyu! Eet’d be fon!”

“I—are you sure? I know you have a lot to do…”

“Bah!” He dismissed her objections with a wave. “Dot schtuff iz borink. Throwink knives iz fon. Come on, ve go to de target room—“

“ _Um_.” She cleared her throat, staring down at her boots. “Maybe not right now? I’d rather not have an audience watching when I drop them or manage to stab myself in the hand.”

“Hyu vould haff an audience ennyvay,” he pointed out. “Iz not like ve all sleep at de same time.”

“…Right.”

She looked much less enthusiastic now, and he flashed a grin at her to put her at ease. “Und hey, eef dey laff, hyu know vere to aim!”

That startled a giggle out of her, and he counted it as a job well done.


	10. in which there is a post-combat conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place just after Chapter Eight. Read that first.

Eventually, once the blood had been at least partially mopped up and the furniture had been righted, Maxim took a seat at her table. “Hey.”

She’d washed her hands—twice—but she thought she could still feel the blood under her nails. She pressed her palms flat to the table and made herself meet his gaze. “Hey, yourself.”

“Ken ve talk?”

He sounded serious. It would have filled her with dread, but she had a feeling she’d used up her daily allotment of terror already. She gestured— _go ahead, it’s not like my day can get too much worse_.

He glanced away, reaching out to cover her hand with his. There was orange blood under his claws. “Hy vos tinkink dot mebbe now iz not de best time for, vell…Hy _like_ hyu, Hy do, bot it iz a little krezy chust now, hyu know? Und Hy vant to spend time vit hyu _properly_ , court hyu de right vay. Mebbe ven dis iz all over, ve can—“*

She sucked in a deep breath. “ _No_.”

He blinked at her. “Mrr?”

Once she started talking, it seemed to be impossible to stop. “The Lady Heterodyne is missing, Mechanicsburg is completely closed off, the Baron’s Peace is falling apart— _did_ fall apart—the Baron is probably dead and who knows if his son’s any use at running the empire—Maxim, this is the first time in twenty years that anyone’s dared to attack this town. People _died_ today! In my shop!” He started to say something at that, but she rose half out of her chair and barreled through it. “I had to kill something with way too many teeth today to save my best friend! Domnica is my _best friend_ , and she was almost murdered today by a Spark that thought he should rule because he had the scariest monsters, which he doesn’t even have because I’ve met you and you’re scarier! Europa is _broken_ , and I am—I am _not_ going to sit around and _wait_ while other people pick up the pieces and try to glue them back together! You will court me _now_ , Maxim _, or you will not court me at all!_ ”

Maxim was staring at her, cheeks darkening; belatedly, she realized she’d been shouting. The other Jaegers—his regiment, _God damn it_ —were blatantly listening at what was left of the window. Most of them were grinning. Some of them were cackling. She dropped back into her seat, blushing furiously.

His hand was still on hers, a delicate pressure; when he took it and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, she actually squeaked. “Hy kennot say Hy vill be around verra much, bot Hy vill try to come und see hyu. Hy vill—Hy dunno if Hy ken, bot Hy vill _try_ to keep dis place safe. If Hy dun show opp, if sumtink heppens—Hy told hyu about de caves. Go dere, hyu vill be safe as ennytink.”

She shook her head. “Don’t talk like that—you’re a Jaeger, you’ve survived everything up till now, and that had better not change or I _swear_ I’ll find someone to zap you back and give you a piece of my mind.”

“Vell.” He smiled faintly, one fang poking out over his bottom lip. “Hy had better try not to die, den.”

“Exactly.” The smile was contagious, really. “In the meantime…would you like to stay for dinner?”

His face lit up; for a moment she was sure he was going to lean across the table to kiss her. “Hy vould _love_ to.”

“Hoy, did hyu hear dot? Free dinner!”

Maxim turned around; Zeuxippe raised her voice to make very sure that the assembled Jaegers heard both of them. “NOT FOR YOU.”

 

 

* Unbeknownst to Zeuxippe, this little speech was prompted by an extremely pointed lecture from Ognian involving Maxim’s romantic timing (bad) and when it was a good idea to date a civilian ( _not_ when you were five minutes from an active combat zone at all times and the world was crumbling out from under you).


	11. in which jaegers are discussed and an engagement is made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few weeks or so after chapter nine, in which Dimo decided to teach Zeuxippe how to throw knives. She's started to practice on her own.

Her knife slammed into the wooden target and stuck there, and for a second Zeuxippe thought she’d gotten the hang of it.

And then it clattered to the floor, and she sighed and went to pick it up.

“Hey, Miz Zeuxippe! Hyu iz gettink pretty goot.”

She turned to see a pink-haired Jaeger watching her. It—no, wait, on second glance _she_ , female Jaegers had shocked her at first but she was getting used to them—was grinning at her, revealing just as many fangs as the action suggested. Zeuxippe arranged her face into the smile she used with customers, the one with teeth and a gaze that said she was not to be manhandled. “I’m still learning.”

The Jaeger waved that away with a gesture of her gray-skinned hand. “Hyu iz ektually hittink de target, hyu iz doing goot. I gotta say Hy iz surprised, though. De bettink vos dot hyu’d take up de sword.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re betting on my choice of weaponry.”

The Jaeger chuckled. “Hey, hyu boyfriend iz a swordsman, und I am beink verra nize und not makink enny rude jokes about vot kind ov _veapon_ hyu prefer.” She paused. “Yet. _Me_ , Hy thot hyu vould’ve chust picked up a bigger knife. Tomas vill not schtop braggink about ven hyu pulled vun on him, I thot de boss vos goink to punch him.”

It took her a moment, but the words jarred her memory; right, this was Lieutenant Dana in Maxim’s regiment, the one who painted. She shrugged, feeling suddenly awkward. “I’m not…like you. If I have to fight, I’m safer far away.”

“Eh, dot’s fair. Iz vhy Hy vent into de cavalry.” Her eyes gleamed, as though imparting ancient wisdom. “Iz much easier to fight ven hyu haff de height advantage, zo hyu alvays take it ven hyu ken. Climb a hill, get on a box, _zumtink_. I dun tink de boyz bothered to remind hyu ov dot, yah?”

Looking at her, Zeuxippe tilted her head in confusion before realization dawned. The exuberantly feathered hat and the riding boots tricked the eye, but Dana was really only an inch or two taller than her. “…No, no they didn’t.”

Dana snorted, shaking her head. “Typical. Iz like dey only realize ve are not tall ven dey do dot schtupid ‘let’z take vot she iz holdink und hold it over our headz like ve iz king ov de vorld’ ting. De boss did dot to me ven ve met und I had to dem near break hiz ribs.”

It didn’t surprise her. “Oh, Johann Neugebauer used to do that to me.” She rolled her eyes at the memory. “I had to punch him in the stomach until he gave my doll back, and then—“

“Und den hyu got in trouble?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Vosn’t enny more fair ven I vos hyu age, either.” But Dana was starting to smile again. “Hyu already gots de instincts, though, eefen ven hyu vos dot little. I guess dey iz right, vot dey iz saying about hyu.”

The tone made her wary. “…What are they saying?”

Dana smirked. “Dot hyu’d make a great Jaeger.”

~~

Later that night, when they coiled up together in his bed, she decided to bring it up to Maxim. “Mmm…hey, do you know what they’re saying about me?”

He purred, running his claws lightly over her stomach. “Dot hyu iz beautiful? Dot hyu iz ferocious?”

“Well, no—okay, that was part of it, but—“ Her breath hitched, and she wriggled under his touch. “Maxim, stop that, I’m trying to talk.”

He rested his hand almost casually on her bare hip and shot a winning smile at her. “Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry at _all_.” But she nestled closer, leaning her head against his chest. “…Apparently, the gossip is that I’d make a good Jaeger.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “I don’t know how true that is, but I think I am getting better at throwing knives.”

He’d gone still as she spoke; when he sighed and propped himself up on his elbow, she looked up into his face to find it uncharacteristically serious. “Zeuxippe, do hyu know vot hyu haff to do to become a Jaeger?”

She nodded. “Grandpa told me. I know I’m not exactly prime warrior material yet, but by the time we find Lady Heterodyne, maybe…” It had sounded better the more she thought about it; Jaegers were, after all, effectively immune to old age and very hard to kill. She would outlive her friends, but she would be around for their descendants.

He shook his head. “Iz not dot. Yah, hyu must be a varrior, hyu must svear hyu life to de Heterodynes…hyu ken do dot, bot den hyu must drink de Jaegerdraught.”

“…Which is bad because…”

His hand slid up her back, pulling her closer, and he shifted his weight to ease her entirely into his arms. “Only vun in ten survive. De Jaegers hyu’ve met, ve vere de lucky vuns dot liffed.”

Curled against him, surrounded by his warmth, feeling his heartbeat thump against her skin, she nonetheless felt a shiver crawl down her spine. She’d met a lot of Jaegers. “Oh.”

“Yah.” He coiled the ends of her hair around his fingers, gently. “Und Hy luff hyu, Hy dun _vant_ hyu to die. Even if hyu vould mek de best Jaeger effer.” He paused. “Vitch hyu vould, by de vay. Dot iz not up for debate.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Don’t let the other Jaegers hear you say that, the _other_ thing I was going to tell you is that they’re surprised we’re not _married_ yet.”

“ _Vot_.”

“Oh, yes.” It wasn’t really funny, but she found herself smiling anyway. “Your lieutenant offered to be a bridesmaid, and I understand Ognian’s got prior claim to the role of best man.”

He groaned loud and long, rolling over onto his back and staring at the ceiling with an expression close to physical pain on his face. “Gott’s leettle fish in _trousers_. Vot did hyu tell dem?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I…” She’d laughed it off, ignoring the heat in her face, until Dana had teased her and then she’d kicked her in the shin (and then Dana had pulled her hair, and the resulting fight would have been much less embarrassing if the Jaeger hadn’t been giving her tips the entire time).

“…” He looked over at her. “Do hyu _vant_ to get married?”

“…Um.” Briefly, she wondered if it was actually possible to catch fire from blushing too hard. She vaguely recalled seeing a study on spontaneous human combustion the year before. “Maybe. I mean, not right now! But when we find Lady Heterodyne and free Mechanicsburg…then…yeah.”

He reached for her, drawing her into a kiss that left her feeling breathless. When he pulled away, he was grinning. “Hy dun haff a ring, hyu know.”

She giggled. “That’s okay. I don’t have a dress.”

His eyes gleamed wickedly. “Yah, Hy noticed. De look suits hyu.”

“You are _awful_.”

“Ah! Bot hyu luff me.”

She sighed fondly, rolling to push him onto his back and straddle his hips. “Despite all common sense, yes. I do.”


	12. in which zeuxippe meets agatha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during the maybe half a day during which Agatha was actually at the caverns.

She had a little sister, most of her Jaegers were safe, and if she was lucky and they could scrounge up the eggs there was going to be _cake_. Agatha’s day was looking up. The canteen they’d set up was crowded, but she spotted a seat at a slightly wobbly table next to another blonde woman who was darning someone’s shirt as though the fabric had personally offended her. “Do you mind if I sit here?”*

“Oh, no, not at all…” She looked up, head tilting. Agatha saw the exact moment realization dawned. “Lady Heterodyne!”

She was going to _murder_ Gil. “Yes—oh, please don’t get up! It’s nice to meet you, miss…?”

“Zeuxippe.” She picked her needle back up and returned to her sewing without looking at it. “It’s an honor to meet you, really. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Her tone suggested it wasn’t an honor at all, and Agatha wondered what exactly she’d heard. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“It’s not like you could help it.” Her gaze flickered down to her stitching and back up to Agatha’s face. “Are you planning to stick around? The Jaegers need you, you know.”

“I have to get to Paris, but I’m sure Dimo’s a great leader—“

Zeuxippe deliberately set her needle down and leaned forward, glaring at her. “They need you to _fix them!_ Jaegers won’t let anyone else but a Heterodyne or maybe another Jaeger operate on them, and only a Heterodyne can really patch them up right—do you understand the kind of injuries they’ve been living with all this time, waiting for you, and you’re just going to run off?! I thought—everyone says you’re such a good person, they speak the world of you, and you’re going to abandon them?”

Agatha felt like she’d been slapped, and she was suddenly very grateful that her chair had a back she could slump against. “What?”

“You heard what I…” She trailed off, eying her with a look of appraisal that quickly turned to surprise. “You really didn’t know.”

She shook her head as a nasty sick feeling welled up in her stomach. “Nobody told me. There’s…a lot about being a Heterodyne that I still don’t know.”

Zeuxippe growled quietly, sounding a bit like a Jaeger herself. “I would’ve thought Dimo or Oggie…alright, honestly I can see it slipping their minds, but I thought for sure Maxim would have said something, with his bad arm. I’m going to _strangle_ him when he gets back.”

The Jaeger at the next table leaned over, sandwich in hand. “Hyu vant Hy should remind hyu?”

She smoothed her hair down angrily. “No, that’s alright, I’ll find somewhere in my busy schedule to put down _murdering my lover for being a complete idiot._ ”

Agatha’s stomach stopped twisting itself up into her throat. As Zeuxippe’s words sank in, she took a deep breath. “Maxim’s arm, you said?”

She nodded. “For the past fifteen years—it’s why he wears that glove. He’s pretty well-off, though, compared to some of the rest.*** Dimo’s clank arm keeps rusting when it rains, and we did what we could for Tudor’s ankle but he’s probably going to limp for the rest of his life, and…well.” She cleared her throat. “We’ve been trying to keep everyone alive.”

Agatha stood up so abruptly that her chair fell over. “Right. Thank you, Miss Zeuxippe, but I need to have a talk with Dimo now.”

Zeuxippe’s lips thinned. “It was very nice to meet you, Lady Heterodyne. Knock Dimo’s hat off for me, would you?”

She was already storming off. “It would be my pleasure.”

~~

As the shouting rang through the caverns, Lieutenants Dana and Piotr of the 10th Light Jaegercavalry looked at each other and sighed. She pulled her hat off to rake her claws through her hair. “Dot could’ve vent better.”

“Hyu tink?”

Somewhere just within earshot, Lady Heterodyne’s voice rose to a dangerously Sparky roar. Dana winced. “Und Miz Zeuxippe vould mek de _best_ sister-in-arms, too.”****

“Hey, mebbe ven de Lady gets bek it vill be a better time, yah?” Piotr couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm, but he was clearly making an effort anyway.

“Hrmph.” She settled her hat back on her head, tweaking the slightly bedraggled ostrich plume until it fluffed up. “I tink dey got along, at least. Und hey, mebbe de Lady vill be bek soon.”

“Hy heard she vos goink to Paris. Iz far.”

Dana considered this. “…Giffs us time to plan de veddink.”

“…Hyu tink ve should mebbe tell Maxim?”

“…Naah.”

Piotr nodded. If there was one thing they agreed on, it was that their superior officer couldn’t be trusted to handle his own romantic affairs. Oh, he was a great hand with the flowers and the sweet talk, but weddings required a broader focus. A dozen different barrels of rum, for instance. And Zeuxippe, for all her wonderful ferocity, probably wouldn’t understand the utmost importance of sourcing easily-smashed furniture with the proper heft to it.

 

 

* This was the direct result of hours of maneuvering by most of the Jaeger forces, an operation which had required considerable stealth and secrecy** from all involved.  
** Not talking about it where Maxim or Zeuxippe could hear.  
*** Zeuxippe tried not to think about last year’s run-in with the superintelligent ferret constructs. Jaeger physiology was a well-kept secret, but (as Dimo had shouted while holding Maxim’s guts in) sometimes professional pride was worth considerably less than someone who was really good with a needle and thread. There had been entirely too much blood, and Maxim hadn’t helped any by being smug about the addition to his scar collection.  
**** The precise ranking of Best Potential Jaeger had been a topic of much discussion***** among the Jaegerkin already in the caves, but it was eventually agreed that Zeetha’s status as Probably An Actual Princess put her out of the running even if she was clearly a better fighter. Jaegers weren’t even allowed to inherit titles in Mechanicsburg, there was no reason to think Skiffander would be any different.  
***** Fighting.


	13. in which maxim is zeuxippe's guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maxim’s hat must be a hot commodity among Jaegers, but he doesn’t have to fight for it nearly as much as he was expecting (which is good, because he does need to sleep and eat at some point). Zeuxippe is one _hell_ of a course hazard to deal with. Takes place sometime after chapter nine.

“…Hy vant dot hat.”

Julius tilted his head, following his friend’s gaze to where Maxim was waiting patiently in line for a sandwich.* “It clashes vit hyu hair.”

Gunther waved his hand, dismissing that as irrelevant. “Iz _Old Man Death’s_ hat, Hy vouldn’t care if dere vos sequins und lace on it. Und Hy heard Maxim had to trick de old man out ov it, ennyvay.”

Julius pursed his lips, contemplating that. Sure, tricking him _counted_ , but…well, it wasn’t as impressive as a real fight, was it? Trickery was for Jaegers who couldn’t beat their opponent properly, and the rumor was that Maxim had been on his third try when he’d come up with the idea. “Zo go get it.”

Gunther nodded and stood up, setting his beer down. “Hy vill.”

Lunging at him would be more traditional, but the sacred institution of the sandwich queue called for stealth. Julius watched as Gunther sidled in Maxim’s direction, edging around passing Jaegers and civilians until he had a clear shot to strike. Gunther tensed and prepared to spring, and Julius was about to start cheering him on when a horribly unwelcome voice reached his ears.

“Maxim, there you are!”

Maxim’s face lit up and he turned to slide an arm around Zeuxippe’s waist; Gunther might as well have been part of the wall for all the notice he evidently gathered. “Vell, hey dere sveethot. Hyu miss me?”

Zeuxippe leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Oh no, I was without you for a whole five hours, how will I cope.” She sounded disgustingly fond.***

“Hy know, it vos vay too long. Come on, ve find somevhere qviet to sit und hyu tell me about hyu knife practice, yah?”

Gunther was still watching Maxim. Carefully, so as to not attract too much attention, Julius got up and made his way to his side. “Hy vouldn’t, eef Hy vos hyu.”

Absolutely nobody had ever accused the man of being the sharpest knife in the drawer. “Vot? Iz chust Maxim und hiz gurl.”

Before he could do anything sensible (like run away, preferably into the next cavern) Zeuxippe caught his eye and very deliberately rested her hand on the hilt of the bread knife tied to her belt. When he didn’t immediately step away, her eyes narrowed.

Julius smacked him in the back of the head so hard that his hat wobbled. “Dot’z _Miz Zeuxippe_ , eediot. Old Man Death’s granddaughter? Maxim iz her guy—do hyu vant to deal vit _her_ az a course hazard?”

Maxim, unfortunately for Gunther’s dignity, overheard this last comment and turned to them with a grin that might’ve been a smirk if it didn’t show so many fangs. “Hyu really don’t. Did Hy tell hyu about de time she hit me vit de olive jar?”

“Maxim!” Zeuxippe jabbed an elbow into his ribs.

“Vot, hyu did!”

“You don’t have to _brag_ about it!”

“Ho yez Hy do, especially considerink dot _zum_ pipple,” he snorted in Julius and Gunther’s direction, “dun seem to know dot Hy iz hyur guy und might be tinkink dot ve iz an _easy fight_. Bot hyu guyz iz not dot schtupid, yah?”

Gunther started to say something, but Julius clapped a hand over his mouth and spoke up before his friend could shoot himself in the proverbial foot. “Ov cawze not!”

As he steered Gunther away, he heard Zeuxippe remark, “I didn’t think you’d warn them like that; that was nice of you.”

Maxim made a sound like a verbal shrug. “Iz only fair.”

“You _know_ they’re only going to wait until I’m not around.”

“Zo Hy vill tell hyu all about de fight later!”

“ _Including_ any major injuries.” ****

“Hyu vorry too much—ow! Ow, yez, fine.”

“There’s my guy.”

“Dem right.”

 

* The sandwich queue had been Zeuxippe’s friend Domnica’s idea, and she enforced it with iron will and a wooden spoon.** The Jaegers had quickly learned that their usual “horde” method would Not Be Tolerated.  
** She’d received ten marriage proposals already. There was a waiting list.  
*** There was a significant section of the Jaeger population that had stopped betting on _whether_ they would get married and just focused on _when_. Julius was not among them.   
**** Hat fights rarely resulted in serious injury (for a Jaeger definition of “serious”) but Old Man Death’s hat was one of the pair viewed as a chance to pull out all the stops.*****  
***** The other one was a Corbettite cap belonging to an infantrywoman named Vaska. Fighting her for it was widely considered a Really Stupid Idea.


	14. in which there is chocolate, and maxim becomes a legend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few weeks after Zeuxippe and her friends and family move into the caverns; she and Maxim have been dating for a couple months by this point.

It was a chilly March day; down in the caverns, it was cold enough that Maxim had to pull his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders as he rummaged through the pantry where they kept things that didn’t go bad quickly. Surely what he needed would be somewhere around here…!

“What are you doing?”

He lifted his head, abandoning his attempt at deciphering a smudged crate label. “Ho, Miz Domnica. Hyu know vhere ve keep de chocolate?”

She grimaced. “We haven’t got any; I’m sorry.”

“ _Dem_. Iz Zeuxippe’s birthday next veek.”

“Mm-hmm.” Domnica thought for a moment. “…You could pick her some flowers, or something. I’m knitting her another scarf.”

He pouted. “She _likes_ chocolate.”

“Well, we’re out.”

As she strode past him, unsympathetic, Maxim crossed his arms grumpily. Zeuxippe deserved all the best things in the world, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t at least get her a little bit of chocolate for her birthday. He’d fought at Vienna and ridden with the Heterodynes when they’d sacked Pest; he refused to be daunted by a little thing like lack of supply. There had to be _some_ way to get his hands on some—ideally without her knowing, which would quite ruin it.

He called after Domnica, “Hoy, mebbe dun tell her Hy vos lookink? Iz a surprize.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “A surprise? In these caves? The way news travels you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t know by dinner.”

“Hy ken try.” Feeling he should say something else, he grumbled, “Hy dun vant her to be disappointed eef Hy kent get her enny. Schott opp.”

She turned away; he didn’t see her smile. ***** “I didn’t say anything.”

“Hrmph.” Grumbling, he stalked away. There had to be something at least chocolate- _based_ in the caves somewhere.

There wasn’t. When quiet whispers and pointed questions didn’t work—well, hey, he’d tried subtlety, but threatening to strangle a Jaeger who looked like they were hiding something didn’t work either. Each day brought with it a feeling of dread as Zeuxippe’s birthday loomed and he was no closer to getting her the chocolate she loved than before. He was the worst boyfriend _ever_.

It wasn’t until the day before The Day (not that Maxim was agonizingly aware of every minute or anything) that any sort of relief loomed on the horizon.

They were huddled behind a bush, keeping watch, when his lieutenant Piotr raised his head to sniff the air. “Hoy, hyu schmell dot?”

Maxim frowned. “Hy don’t—vait. Clenks?”

Oggie tilted his head, sniffing the air. “Schmells strong—oof.” He rubbed his side where Maxim had jabbed an elbow into his ribs, but he did—blessedly—shut up.

There was a faint rumbling sound coming from over the rise. As they waited, it grew louder. The scent changed, steel and machine oil underlaid with something sweet. Maxim wrinkled his nose. When the first golden clank came into view and stomped far too close to them, he was already flattening himself against the ground.

In an undertone, Piotr muttered, “Hy heard ov dese guys. Professor Lind von Spruengli und zum clenks he made vot run on chocolate. Nasty tings.”

They marched by in a single column, shaking the earth under them. Maxim’s ears were tuned only to Piotr’s words, though. “ _Chocolate_ , hyu said? How’d he do dot?”

“Ho vot, hyu iz tinkink ve schteal vun for hyu _girlfriend_?”

Maxim punched Oggie in the arm without looking at him. “Schott opp, vill hyu?” Really, his best friend was just embarrassing sometimes. ******

Piotr shrugged. “Hy dunno, Hy heard he gots zum kind ov machine vot chust turns de schtuff out like a mill.”

“…Hrm.”

“Ho no, Hy know dot look. Hyu iz goink to follow dem.” Oggie was smirking; for once, Maxim ignored it. “Hyu vant ve should come vit hyu?”

Honestly, he _did_ , but… “No, hyu gots to tell Dimo vot iz goink on. Hy vill be bek.” Adjusting his hat, he slunk off through the underbrush.

Admittedly he wasn’t even remotely the best at sneaking, but neither were two-story-high golden clanks; unlike him, their operators weren’t even bothering to climb over fallen trees. As they picked up speed, he scrambled after them, ignoring the branches that ripped at his clothes and nearly knocked his hat off.

The steep slope took him by surprise, somehow, and he almost tumbled over headfirst when he reached the edge of the depression below. The clanks marched on down a winding path carved into the dirt, disappearing into a building carved (Maxim winced) to look like a giant gold bar. He wished the pack was here; they’d never call _him_ overdressed again, not with von Spruengli’s fort for comparison. There was a fence (gold) and a gate (gold _and_ studded with what Maxim hoped were real rubies) but no guard clanks or constructs that he could see. He crept down the slope, sticking to the underbrush, and wished fervently that his nose worked. The scent of melting chocolate hung so heavily in the air that trying to breathe through it almost made him gag.

Up close, he realized that the fence wasn’t nearly as solid as it looked. The closely-packed spiked bars that made it up would probably have been a serious obstacle for a human, but Jaegers were made of stronger stuff and it was pitifully easy to reach into them and twist until he had a gap big enough to squeeze through. They moved and tried to stab his hands, naturally, but he ignored the pain and blood. *******

When he set foot on the other side of the fence he froze, half-expecting an alarm to sound, but nothing happened. He scrambled across the open (dangerously exposed) space, leapt up to the (unbarred, was Spruengli _insane_? Well, obviously he was, he was a Spark, but _even more_ insane?) window, and smashed it with a fist. When nothing immediately burst through to take his head off, he peered inside.

The room beyond was full of machinery, most of it covered with the sheen of gold. On a plinth in the center rested what, by the slightly more concentrated smell, was a foil-wrapped block of dark chocolate the size of his fist. More chocolate—in bar form—was dropping out of a slot in the plinth onto a conveyor belt heading into the next room. Maxim grinned and hopped through the window.

As soon as his boots hit the floor, a barrage of spikes shot out of the wall. Swearing, he sprinted towards the plinth; each step caused more spikes to fire, tearing holes in his cloak. Leaping over the conveyor belt that looped between him and the block of chocolate brought a twinge of pain as a spike slammed into his calf, but he didn’t slow down. When he reached his prize he paused, lifted up a foil corner to make sure it was what he thought it was, had a brief realization that chocolate was known for melting, and quickly wrapped it up in the remains of his cloak.

Of course, that was when the clanks—smaller ones than he’d seen—came charging in with spinning blades attached to their arms, and he sprang at them with his sword drawn.

Time passed in a blur of glorious combat; he was in the middle of handily skewering a clank that had tried to chop him in half when he realized the sun was starting to go down. It was time to go. Moving quickly, he fought his way over to the window he’d came in by and threw himself over the sill.

“Hoy, boss, hyu iz schneakink off und fightink vitout us?”

Well, that explained why the bigger clanks hadn’t charged in. He grinned at his lieutenant, moving to jam his sword into one’s knee joint. “Hyu iz complainink? Look, Hy left zum for hyu!”

Above them, Lieutenant Dana was leaping from clank to clank, severing their operator’s heads or handily tossing them to the ground below. When she heard Maxim’s voice, she rode a tottering clank all the way to the ground, calling out, “Not enuff! Ve gotta go, und I barely got to do any fightink at _all!_ ”

“Ve ken come bek!” The rest of his regiment was already moving towards the fence; he joined them at a flat run, clutching his precious block of chocolate.

“My clanks! My beautiful golden chocolate clanks!”

Oh, that round figure with the overly-large gun was probably von Spruengli. There was more ranting, but Maxim ignored it until it was cut off by a gurgling scream and a squelchy sound that was probably Dana losing her patience with his squeaky voice. ********

He had a girlfriend to get back to. *********

~~

Zeuxippe was starting to hate dinner duty. There was a limit on how far you could stretch potatoes and bread to fill out a meal; besides that, Jaegers were always hungry and would obliterate everything in sight if they weren’t forcibly reminded that there were civilians to feed too. She piled an extra helping of pork stew into little Bernard Haas’s bowl and shot a glance at the clock. Twenty-five more agonizing seconds and then it would be Domnica’s shift.

“Zeuxippe!”

She snarled automatically before realizing—oh, that was _Maxim_. The rush of happiness that surged through her petered out abruptly when she caught sight of him.  His hair was tangled, there was a nasty-looking scratch on his arm, and if she wasn’t mistaken he was actually limping slightly. “What happened to you?”

“…” His gaze slid away from her, cheeks darkening in what she was pretty sure was (couldn’t be) a blush. “…Iz hyu birthday tomorrow, yah? Hy found hyu zum ov dot chocolate hyu like. Eet might be a leedle broken, though.”

She felt her face heat up. “Oh. Oh, you didn’t have to—thank you!” He pressed something wrapped in shredded crimson wool into her hands; as she picked it apart and carefully peeled back some of the gold foil under it, the smell of bitter dark chocolate made her mouth water. Some force had sheared the block roughly in half, but that would only make it easier to carve pieces off. “…You’re my _hero_.”

He grinned at her. “Und Hy haffen’t even told hyu vot Hy did to get it! Hyu vill luff dis story—“

A roar rang out across the cavern. “MAXIM.”

The color drained out of his face. “…Mebbe Hy tell hyu _after_ Hy let Dimo know.”

Before he could leave—and before she could lose her nerve—Zeuxippe leaned across the counter and pulled him into a quick kiss. “Thanks.”

As she washed up after her shift, chocolate brick tucked securely in her apron, she couldn’t help but grin. She had the best boyfriend _ever_.

 

 ***** Maybe, she thought, Zeuxippe’s choice wasn’t so awful after all.  
****** Besides, just because Jaegers could eat chocolate that had been in a clank didn’t mean Maxim was going to have Zeuxippe do it. She might get sick, and that would be horrible.  
******* As he’d explained to a horrified Zeuxippe once, Jaeger injuries weren’t severe unless they killed you. Everything else could be fixed. When she’d squeezed his bad arm until he yelped, he’d been forced to concede her point.  
******** In the eventual ballad, this would be a rousing fight involving a hand-cranked gateau gun and several acrobatic feats of swordsmanship.  
********* He did pry loose one of the rubies at the gate on his way out, though. Just in case.


	15. in which a certain course of action is suggested in the name of SCIENCE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after chapters 8 and 10. I am so sorry that I can't keep this story moving in a straight line.

True, their town had just been attacked by ravening ox-wolf hybrids a few days prior and a significant portion of the population had summarily decamped to a previously hidden cave system in the name of safety, but a little thing like that wasn’t enough for the girls to cancel their Sunday coffee meetup. Not when all of them were still alive (though Domnica had been pretty shaken up).

She didn’t waste a second of their time. “Zeuxippe saved my life! She stabbed one of Snappkopf’s monsters in the neck!”

Maria and Anneliese looked at each other and back to Zeuxippe. Maria took a sip of coffee and set her cup down. “I wish I could say I was surprised.”

Zeuxippe shivered. “ _I_ was, actually. But it would’ve killed Domnica.”

Domnica smiled at her. “Have I mentioned you’re my best friend?”

“I thought _I_ was your best friend.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

Domnica’s smile turned to a cheery smirk. “Hey, save my life and we’ll talk.”

Zeuxippe stared down into her cup, stirring even though the sugar had definitely dissolved. “…I’m no warrior. You know we both would’ve been dead if Maxim and his regiment hadn’t shown up.”

Anneliese choked on her coffee. “He was _here_? He showed up after leaving you cold and we _missed him?_ ”

“Yes, her Maxim— _Captain Dyatlov_ , apparently—showed up just in the nick of time and Zeuxippe jumped right into his arms.” Domnica tsked in mock disapproval. “I guess I can’t blame you; he did look rather dashing on whatever it is you call that thing he was riding.”

“It’s a _horse_ —a Jaegerhorse, and—I did not jump, there was no jumping!” Zeuxippe knew her face was red, knew her friends were keenly noting her every physical reaction, but she hoped that ducking her head would somehow help anyway.

“If that was a horse, Herr Donowitz’s pony is a unicorn.” Domnica rolled her eyes. “Fine, you _fell_ into his arms then.” She leaned across the table, gesturing with her croissant as she talked. “She did. There was an embarrassing lack of poise. He and the other Jaegers _did_ kill the rest of those nasty wolf-monster things, but after standing her up for her second date I would’ve thought that was worth a _hug_ , not kissing his face off in front of God and half the town.”

“She didn’t. You didn’t!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I meant God, half the town, his _entire_ regiment, _and_ her grandpa. I think there was tongue.”

Maria tilted her head. “…Don’t the fangs get in the way?”

Annelise grinned. “Well! Good for you.”

Zeuxippe was starting to wonder what the odds were of the ground opening up and swallowing her. “Domnica!” A thought occurred to her, and she smirked. “I suppose you would’ve been perfectly restrained if it had been his friend Ognian, hmm?”

Domnica sniffed, a faint tinge of pink coloring her cheeks. “Hrmph! Of course I would have. Ognian probably wouldn’t have been dense enough to try to give me that stupid speech about—what was it, the ‘now isn’t a good time’ speech? _Really?_ ”

Maria winced sympathetically. “Oh, Zeuzi, that’s awful. I’m sorry.”

Zeuxippe’s jaw fell open. “I—how did you hear about that?”

“…I live down the block from you, your front window is broken, and your voice carries kind of far.” She shrugged. “Also, the Jaegers in his squad like to gossip.”

She sighed, letting her head drop into her hands. “Jaegers are _awful_.”

“I’ll say, he broke up with you before you even got a chance to date.”

“He didn’t actually—“

“That’s not what I heard—“

Zeuxippe glowered at Domnica. “Alright, you tell it then.”

Maria held up a hand to shush her. “No, no, Zeuxippe—we have to hear this! What _happened?_ ”

Zeuxippe’s blush had retreated. Now it returned with a full platoon, as well as auxiliary support from the facial muscles as she felt herself smiling entirely without meaning to. “Well…we talked.”

“She yelled at him.”

“ _We talked._ And…well, we…” She couldn’t resist the urge to curl up a little in her seat. “He says he wants to _court_ me, and he’s going to try to keep seeing me and protecting the town if he can.” The words poured out of her; there was no stopping them. “And he—and he kissed my _hand_ and I honestly thought I was going to _die_ because that just doesn’t happen outside of sappy novels but he was so sweet and he stayed for dinner…” Face burning, she trailed off.

Her friends were gazing at her, enraptured. Anneliese rested her chin on her hands, completely ignoring the jam now adorning her face. “That’s _adorable_. Did he kiss you again? Properly, I mean? Hands don’t count.” She paused. “Unless his were on you, in which case they do.”

“Anneliese!” He had, and it had been wonderful even if both of them probably tasted like garlic. ***** And his hands…well, he’d been a bit bold, and Zeuxippe still wasn’t sure if she should be enraged or thankful that one of his squad members had spotted them and wolf-whistled, startling them both, before Liberties Were Taken.

“Ahh, you’re all red! He did! Was there more?”

Domnica smacked Anneliese’s arm. “You’re dreadful.”

She grinned at her, unrepentant. “I’m curious! You know, they say Jaegers are amazing in bed.”

Maria raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure it’s not just the _Jaegers_ who are saying that?”

Anneliese pursed her lips as she considered that point. “…You know, I’m not sure. Maybe Zeuxippe should find out with her boyfriend. For _science_.”

Zeuxippe spluttered, “I—Anneliese Maria Klagenfurt, you are going _directly_ to hell. We just started—I don’t even know him that well yet! I’m not going to—to lose my virginity just for _science!_ We’re not Sparks! Science is not a good enough reason!”

“…So you’d do it if you got to know him better?” Anneliese didn’t even try not to waggle her eyebrows suggestively, curse her.

“I…” Her coffee was getting cold, but she took a sip anyway to stall for time and gather her thoughts. “…If. If we actually…work out, as a thing…I might consider it.”

“So I’ll lay by some nice underthings for you, then! You'll thank me later.” ******

Zeuxippe punched her in the arm.

 

 ***** It is a little-known fact that garlic breath does not count if both people have it.  
 ****** Anneliese was a seamstress’s apprentice; most of Zeuxippe’s (and Maria’s, and Domnica’s) more colorfully embroidered underpinnings were from her hand. Zeuxippe had previously thought they were a bit of a waste—who would notice?


	16. in which there is girl talk, jaeger-style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few days after chapter eleven.

Even though it wasn’t a real engagement—they’d told no one, there was no ring, and for all they knew it could drag on for decades—Zeuxippe was acutely conscious of her change in status. The air felt different somehow, charged with electricity, and she found herself trying to pay attention to every conversation she passed just in case news had somehow traveled.  She was in the canteen for lunch when she realized there was a Jaeger watching her.

She could feel their eyes on her as she picked up her sandwich; for all their good points, subtlety usually wasn’t one of them. Carefully, she turned around and scanned the room until she locked eyes with the culprit.

Dana waved at her with the hand that wasn’t industriously pushing a pencil across a sheet of paper. She was in a skirt today, sleeves of her shirtwaist rolled up past her elbows. “Hallo, miz! Ken hyu do me a favor?”

Against her better judgement, Zeuxippe approached and sank into the seat opposite her. “What is it?”

“…Do hyu mind if I draw hyu? Or paint hyu or zumtink?”

She blinked. “What? Why?”

The Jaeger grinned. “Vell, hyu iz pretty, for vun ting. Und hyu boyfriend vants a picture to look all soppy at vhen he iz avay.”

She felt her face heat up. “He _said_ that to you?”

“…Vellll…no.” Dana actually looked unsure for a moment—an odd expression on a Jaeger—before smirking cheerfully. “Bot he vill not schtopp braggink about hyu und hyu knives, zo iz a safe bet, yah? Hy haff neffer seen him vit _ennyvun_ like dot.”

She risked a bite of her sandwich and found it good, though with less mustard than she would’ve liked. It was a decent distraction from the conversation. “What was he like usually, then?”

“Vot, before he met hyu und hyu scrambled hiz brains vit dot olive jar? Good on hyu, by de vay, he needed dot.” Dana sketched as she talked, gesturing with her free hand. “He vos a _guy_.”

A part of her that sounded unsettlingly like Maria warned her against inquiring further. She ignored it; after all, Maxim was essentially her fiancé now. “He’s still a guy.”

“ _More_ ov a guy.” She shrugged. “Did most ov hiz tinkink vit hiz prick, vitch izn’t zo bad except he had de _vorst_ taste. Hyu iz a vay better choice.” She paused. “Unless hyu iz married to somevun else und haz been keepink it a secret all dis time. Hyu izn’t, right?”

She almost choked on her lunch. “No!”

“Good. De schtories I could tell hyu, chust since I met him…” Dana grinned hugely.

“…I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Hyu should! Dere vos dis vun time, ve vos in Prague, und—“

Boots clicked behind her, a familiar tread, and Maxim leaned on the table by her side to frown at Dana. “Vot lies iz hyu tellink her, sister?”

“I iz tellink her de truth!” Dana’s smile would’ve been angelic if there hadn’t been so many teeth in it. “She iz hyu girlfriend, she deserves to know about all de times vere hyu had to jump out ov vindows vitout most ov hyu clothes chust ahead ov somevun’s husband—“

“Schott opp—“

“—or dere wife—“

“ _Schott opp_ —“

Dana hopped out of her chair, nimbly dodging Maxim’s swing. “—or dere _entire honor guard_ , iz hyu schtill banned from Prague over dot? I tink she deserves to know vere she kent go on hyu _honeymoon_ , yah?”

Zeuxippe went crimson, slanting a glance up at her lover.

Maxim froze and slowly relaxed his stance, eying Dana steadily. “Hyu kent talk, hyu iz banned from _Svitzerland_.”

She waved a hand. “Psh, dot vill blow over. It vos only a leedle boom. _Hyu_ caused a _scandal_. Miz Zeuxippe, hyu know hyu boyfriend iz—”

“… _Hyu_ blew up de Royal Mint vit a _feather_.”

“—probably de ancestor ov half ov Europa—Dey ken rebuild!”

Zeuxippe cleared her throat, cutting off what looked like another argument in the making. “Maxim, if you hurry you should be able to get some of that roast beef you like.”

“Thenks, dollink.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek and ambled off to join the queue.

She raised an eyebrow at Dana, who was grinning smugly. “…Half of Europa, really?”

“Chust about.” She shrugged. “Iz not zo bad as hyu iz mebbe tinkink, he _iz_ about…hoy, Maxim! How old hyu iz?”

There was a pause before the answer came back, shouted over the crowd. “Two hundert und fifty-vun!”

“Hyu see? So he’s had time to be _vild_. Ov cawze, vit hyu, Hy ken see he iz settlink down. Ve neffer thot ve’d see de day.” Dana smirked at her. “Iz hyu goink to mek an honest man ov him?”

Zeuxippe knew there was no way her blush didn’t show on her face. “I _might_. But first, what’s this I hear about you being banned from an entire country?”

“Ho, iz a _great_ schtory…”

As she listened with half an ear, she found herself with the urge to giggle at Dana’s turn of phrase. Even marriage couldn’t make an “honest man” out of a _Jaeger_.


	17. in which there is a long-awaited wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Zeuxippe's dress, minus the weird ruffly thing in the middle of the bodice.  
> http://www.metmuseum.org/collection/the-collection-online/search/159024?=&imgno=0&tabname=label

Mechanicsburg was free, the Lady Heterodyne was in power, and the Storm King and the son of the Baron were paying court to her. All was right with the world. As she made her way through the city, avoiding a thousand different little parties, Zeuxippe was determined to celebrate properly.

Step One: Find Maxim.

Step Two: Find a bed.

Step Three: Profit.

As she turned down the street to General “call me Mamma, dollink” Gkika’s, she caught sight of Dana, Nadjma, and Aurelia from Maxim’s regiment. ***** They seemed to be having a particularly energetic three-way argument, and she hesitated at the corner before striding towards them anyway. “Hey, is Maxim—“

Dana broke off mid-punch to grin excitedly at her. “Ho, hyu iz here! Come on, let’z get hyu inside…”

“Wait—what?” The other Jaegers grabbed Zeuxippe’s arms, pinning her in a gentle hold that nonetheless managed to suggest that breaking free from it would be quite impossible. She made an effort anyway, glaring at Dana. “What’re you doing?”

Dana’s grin threatened to split her face in half, scrunching up the darker gray mottling on her cheeks until they looked like bruises. “Ve haff to measure hyu for de dress!”

Despite her protests (and threats, including some spectacular ones she’d learned from Maxim), which grew increasingly graphic as they walked, Dana refused to say any more until she’d been hustled down the staircase to the Jaeger section of the bar, rushed through the hallways, and shoved into a very large room containing Mamma Gkika, an array of female Jaegers sporting expressions which varied from “serious” to “gleeful,” and…a dress, sitting on a dressmaker’s dummy.

Zeuxippe stared. It was a _nice_ dress, she had to admit—not white, but a cream several shades lighter than her own skin with a high collar, flouncy elbow-length sleeves that would allow plenty of movement, and a remarkably modest train. The asymmetrical trim—in a more saturated cream—formed elaborate scrolls and curves in panels covering the entire skirt and, when she looked closer, most of the bodice as well. After a moment, she found her voice. “What the _devil_.”

Mamma beamed at her. “Hyu iz gettink married tomorrow! Congratulations.”

All she could do was blink stupidly. “I—yes, Maxim and I are engaged, but—we don’t have rings or—“

Aurelia triumphantly pulled out a small box from one of her many pockets. “Here hyu go!”

She was actually speechless for a moment. _How long have they been planning this?!_ “ _What_.”

Dana looked incredibly smug. “Hyu haz hyu dress, ve haff de cathedral reserved, hyu recepshun iz all set opp, de food’z been ordered…iz all ready for hyu veddink! Und ve invited all hyu friends und family too. _Hyu_ chust gotta look pretty und try hyu gown on.”

The Jaegers started stripping her of her clothes—and her knives!—with ruthless efficiency; she let them, because she suspected the alternative might be being knocked unconscious. Besides, it left her free to question Dana. “How did you get my friends to go along with this? Does _Maxim_ know? I bet he wouldn’t be happy.” She paused. “And what’s your role in all this?”

Dana started ticking the answers off on her fingers. “Ve told dem hyu’d set de date, vitch is technically not lyink becawze effryvun _knew_ hyu two vos gonna get married eventually, de boyz und Ognian iz handlink de boss, I tink de whole bar vould know if he vos unhappy, und I…” Her teeth gleamed as she grinned. “Iz a _bridesmaid_.”

Zeuxippe was down to her chemise, drawers, and corset in a room full of (not to put too fine a point on it) living weapons. That was the only thing that stopped her from following her urge to choke Dana with the feathers on the woman’s hat. “You are a _jerk_ , is what you are.”

Dana tilted her head, watching as Zeuxippe was lifted and buttoned into the dress. “Hokay, yah, bot vot else vos hyu vaitink for to get married? De Heterodyne iz in der Kestle, de city izn’t frozen…hyu vere vantink a messenger from Heaven, den?”

Zeuxippe ignored her, focusing on the dress. It buttoned up the back with a line of delicate pearl studs that she could already tell would be deliciously frustrating for Maxim to undo later, but the snug waist sash and collar were the only really restrictive parts. The skirt was a bit long, but heels would fix that. Acutely aware of the Jaegers watching her like hawks, she turned slowly and took a few steps, feeling the silk skirts swirl around her. “…It seems to fit well.”

Mamma frowned. “Hy iz hearink a ‘bot’ in dot sentence.”

She stretched and rolled her shoulders, feeling her muscles tense. “But could you, um. Let the waist out a little?”

Nadjma glumly pulled out her coin purse, handing it to Dana. “Hy knew eet, dey haff a leedle vun on de vay.”

Zeuxippe nearly choked on her own spit. “I—what—we do not! I just can’t bend in it the way it is—oh, you people are impossible.”

“Vot, iz a pretty likely ting—“

Mamma smoothly cut through the impending squabble. “Hokay, ve let out de vaist. Hyu ken schtay here for de night in vun ov de schpare bedrooms, iz bad luck for de groom to see de bride de night before de veddink.”

Zeuxippe gazed helplessly around the room. The Jaegers still looked cheery, but from their stances she didn’t doubt that they’d try to stop her if she made a run for it. And, really, what was there to run from? She could admit to herself that she had quite been looking forward to the end of her engagement for a while now, and she held no illusions about the absolute lack of help Maxim was likely to be when it came to actually planning their wedding. *******

She nodded in agreement. “ _And_ I want slits cut along the seams so I can reach my knives if I have to.”

“Whew, hyu iz a slave driver! Let’z get hyu changed out ov dis dress und ve see vot ve ken do, dollink.”

~~

“Hy ken’t get married _now!_ ”

Oggie sat back in his chair, beer in hand, and watched as Maxim paced. He, Piotr, and Dimo had fed enough alcohol into him that the overall effect was less “confident stride” and more “panicky stumbling,” which was much more fun to watch. “Vhy not? Hyu don’t vant to get married all ov a sudden?”

Maxim stopped and whirled to face him, grabbing his arms. “Ve iz not _prepared_. Zeuxippe dun haff a dress, Hy dun haff a ring or a suit or _enny idea how to ektually be somevun’s husband—don’t hyu eefen tink about laughink, Piotr, or Hy vill see hyu bosted bek down to Private!_ ”

Dimo held up a small box. “Hy haff hyu ring.”

Piotr shrugged, unaffected by his captain’s threats. “Hy found hyu a suit, Mamma und de ladies iz helpink Miz Zeuxippe vit her dress, hyu dun gotta vorry.” He paused. “Unless she dun _like_ de dress, in vitch case ve _all_ vorry.”

Maxim eyed him warily for a moment, taking in the pea-soup green he favored that went very well on him but would look awful if applied to anyone else, and focused his stare back on Oggie. “Und hyu? Vot hyu got to say?”

Oggie looked him up and down steadily. “Hyu vill be fine. She luffs hyu—hy dunno vhy, bot she doz, und hyu luff her. Chust hand over hyu pay packet effry veek und de house vill tek care ov itself, yah?” He paused. “Und don’t ask schtupid qvestions like ‘ken Hy haff money for dese really expensive shoes eefen though mine iz schtill goot,’ becawze Hy know hyu.”

He frowned at him. “…Dot’z eet? Dot’z hyu marriage advize?”

Oggie considered this for a moment. “Hey, it vorked for me. At least hyu dun haff a leedle vun on de vay und haff to schtart vorryink about nappies und clothes und all dot right avay.” His head tilted, and he eyed Maxim with a worryingly appraising look. “Unless hyu do, hyu _dog_.”

Maxim’s mostly-empty brandy glass shattered next to Oggie’s head, spraying him with broken glass. “Hyu is _not helpink!_ Hy gots to talk to Zeuxippe.”

“She’z somevhere down de hall—hoy! Vhere hyu goink, iz bad luck to see de bride before de veddink!”

Maxim ignored them. Even through his tipsy fog, he could smell where she’d been once he got out into the hall, and it was easy to follow her scent down stairs and through hallways until he found the door where it was strongest. It was locked and barred with iron, impossible to break without a great deal of noise, but he could hear her moving on the other side. “Zeuxippe?”

She sounded tired, but not hurt, and so close that he guessed she was sitting on the other side of the door. “Maxim, did you have any idea this was going to happen?”

He growled. “Hy vould haff told hyu eef Hy did.” A thought occurred to him. “…Iz hyu upset?” He couldn’t blame her if she was; from what he’d gathered from her friends, a woman’s wedding was Important. If his regiment had upset her…well, Maxim wasn’t sure what he’d do, but there would be blood.

A long sigh answered him before she spoke. “I’m a little bit in _shock_ , I think. But…you know, I do want to marry you, and the dress is nice.”

He couldn’t help a chuckle, though it sounded less than thrilled even to his own ears. “Vell. Zo long az de dress iz nice.”

Her next words sent a rush of warmth through his heart. “I just want to see you, though.”

He wanted to kiss her for that. Well. Honestly, he always wanted to kiss her, but especially for that. “Ve’ll see each other tomorrow, sveethot. Hy ken’t vait.”

~~

The next day dawned bright and clear—well, presumably it was bright and clear, because Zeuxippe didn’t get to see it. Mamma showed up at her door with her throwing knives, but also with tea and porridge “to tide hyu over until de reception.” She waited while she ate and buckled her knives back on, and then led her back to the room with the dress.

Inside was chaos. Some of the Jaeger ladies were in finer versions of their everyday uniforms, but some were in actual dresses. Dana wasn’t a shock—she’d seen her in skirts before, though the way her skin kept fluctuating between tones of vaguely pinkish-gray as she argued with Aurelia over which set off her burgundy gown the best was a bit nauseating to watch—but the sight of Jenka in a deep purple gown made her do a double take. She didn’t get much chance to absorb the sight, though, because Mamma was hustling her out of her chemise and into the dress.

Well. Into the crimson shoes and the underpinnings that went with the dress, which were just as cream-colored but trimmed with a startling amount of red lace and silk embroidery. The corset was a masterpiece of cream silk and crimson satin, with cheaper lacings that said quite clearly “whoever is wearing this is soon to be out of it.” She eyed the handiwork for a moment and fixed the nearest Jaeger lady with a glare. “Did Anneliese make these?”

Nadjma calmly brushed back her short black hair and settled her cap on her head. “Hyu friend? Mm-hmm.”

She was going to _murder_ Anneliese, but that would have to wait, because Mamma was unbuttoning the back of the dress so that she could step into it. The waist fit perfectly; when she was allowed to rest her hands at her sides, she found the slits which had been cleverly hidden to allow her to reach her blades. “It’s wonderful.”

“Great! Ooh, ve get to do hyu _hair_.”

Dana sounded worryingly enthusiastic about the prospect; Zeuxippe eyed her short reddish-pink hair and thought nervously of her own locks. There wasn’t a chance for her to object; in less time than it took to blink, she was being sat down in front of a vanity while Dana, Mamma, and (surprisingly) Jenka unpinned her hair and started doing it up again in a complicated chignon.

“Iz so thick—“

“Dot’s goot, yah?”

“Hy tink ve iz gonna need bigger combs—hoy, Siglinde, throw me de vuns vit de rubies?”

“De sapphires vould match her eyes—“

“Bot not de dress. Rubies, Hy tink, und for jewelry…”

“Hy haff zum ruby earrinks! Hyu can haff dem, I dun vear dem much ennymore.”

“Needz bracelets, her arms iz bare. Here.”

“Cosmetics, hyu tink?”

“Bah! She dun need dem, look at dot face. Iz fresh az spring flowers. A leedle lipstick, mebbe.”

“Flowers—a bouquet! Here, iz orange blossoms. Good luck.”

“Vell.” Finally, Mamma patted her cheek and turned her to face the mirror. “Look at hyu on hyu veddink day.”

Zeuxippe stared at herself. Delicate ruby drops hung from her ears, simple but clearly worth a fortune. Her hair had been swept back and piled up, studded with pale horn combs adorned with more rubies. Gold and ruby bracelets circled her wrists; she tugged lightly on one rope-shaped one and found that it uncurled into what she suspected was a garrote. The cream of her dress made her hair and skin almost glow; set off by the red stones in her hair and ears, her eyes were almost shockingly blue. Someone—Catrina, she thought—had dropped a bouquet of fragrant white flowers into her lap. “…Wow.”

Mamma grinned at her. “Maxim iz at de cathedral already. Come on, ve got hyu a carriage.”

“I schtill say hyu should let me drive.”

The response seemed to come from half the room. “ _No_ , Dana.”

The carriage ride passed in a blur. Domnica, Maria and Anneliese were in it when she climbed in, and between explaining what had _really_ happened, scolding Anneliese for going along with it, and letting all three of her best friends exclaim over her dress and her hair and how gorgeous she looked (and the obligatory ribald bets on how long any of her ensemble would last after the reception was over) she almost didn’t notice when they stopped.

Their driver—a Jaeger she knew vaguely as a member of Maxim’s regiment—handed them all down from the carriage and grinned widely at her. “Congratulashuns!”

“Thanks!” She grinned back and hurried into the cathedral.

Her grandpa was suspiciously teary-eyed, but she knew better than to bring it up as he frowned up at her. “You’re late for your own wedding, you were supposed to be here five minutes ago. Didn’t get cold feet, didja?” He leaned up to add, in a whisper that nonetheless carried, “I can get us out of here in five seconds flat.”

She smiled at him and decided never to tell him about the Jaegers’ plot. “No, grandpa, I just had to make everything was settled alright. Let’s go.”

“Great, you’ll be _his_ problem now—ow, hey!” He was grinning even as he rubbed his head, though, so that was alright.

The music swelled as she walked up the aisle; to the sides, she was vaguely conscious of her friends and the Jaegers and even—wait, in the front pew, was that the _Lady Heterodyne?!_ But nothing compared to the sight in front of her.

Maxim was waiting for her. If she had room for any other emotions but joy, it might have been shock—he was actually wearing a suit, riding boots nowhere in sight (though he’d naturally kept his sword) and sporting a brilliantly crimson-and-gold waistcoat that matched the trim on his hat. And he was staring at her as though she was the sun, a faint smile flitting around his face as though it wasn’t sure it was allowed to attend.

She held his gaze and smiled back all through the ceremony, which could have included a song-and-dance number for all the attention she paid it. (It didn’t. At one point they did sacrifice a bull, but that was normal.) When the priest made the obligatory announcement—“you may kiss the bride!”—Maxim seized her and pulled her into a kiss that seared her all the way down to her toes.

And then, of course, the cathedral floor cracked open and there was an undead Heterodyne vampire and a swarm of death bats to fight. Zeuxippe was pretty sure Dana caught the bouquet, though as she immediately used it to swat a bat that didn’t mean much. ********

At least there wasn’t too much blood on her dress at the reception. Maxim’s suit wasn’t quite as lucky, but Oggie had taken the precaution of bringing an extra clean shirt.

(Honestly, though, she wouldn’t have cared if she was covered in blood. She was married!)

 

* Mamma Gkika had, admittedly, flustered Zeuxippe terribly at first, but much to her surprise the General had turned out to be very nice; her reaction to Maxim’s enthusiastic play-by-play of Zeuxippe’s role in the Battle For Mechanicsburg had been to clap her on the back and inform her that she never needed to pay for a beer in her bar again.**  
** Zeuxippe privately thought this was too much; she’d only thrown a _few_ knives, even if one had saved the Lady Heterodyne’s life.  
*** He would probably never be able to make a decision regarding table linens, for one thing.  
**** Though the man the Jaegers had insisted “had to do de veddink portraits” seemed quite taken with her, so maybe Zeuxippe was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outtake, at the reception:
> 
> “Try to look a little less like you’re dying.”  
> “Hy _iz_ dyink, Hy iz mournink de death ov my single life—ow! Hyu see, Oggie, she schtarts right in vit de violence! Hy made de _best_ choice.”


	18. in which zeuxippe faces the superintelligent ferrets of professor wearet, and makes repairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place roughly one year before chapter 12.

They’d managed to rig up a crude sensor alarm system in case the caves were attacked, but for her part Zeuxippe doubted they’d be needed even though she couldn’t ignore the worry buzzing at the back of her mind. The caverns might be attacked, true, but the refugees already living there needed food every day.

She and Domnica were walking back from their shift when the alarms screeched.

Domnica froze. “Uh.”

Zeuxippe was already moving. “Come on, we’ll be safe deeper in the caves—“

“I don’t think we have time!”

“What do you mean, you don’t think we—“

Wait, that was the by-now-familiar sound of Jaegers in a distant battle. Except that it wasn’t even remotely distant, and accompanied by a high-pitched chattering that sounded like nothing Zeuxippe had ever heard. She only had a second to be curious, though, because that was when a pair of white ferrets burst out of tunnels above their heads, screaming war cries in piercing but recognizable Romanian.

“All hail the Ferret Queen!”

She shoved Domnica hard. “Run!”

Domnica ran a few steps, but stopped when she realized Zeuxippe wasn’t following her. “What about you?”

Zeuxippe backed up, pulling a throwing knife out of the sheaths at her belt. The ferrets were the size of large dogs, and their teeth looked wickedly sharp. “I’m going to hold them off, move--!”

The ferrets leapt at her in unison; she didn’t have time to throw the knife, but that was a good thing because it meant that if she moved her hand like _this_ the blade could slice into one with the same ease she used for gutting fish. The other one was faster, though, and she screamed—more out of panic than pain—as its jaws snapped at her wrist. Before she could think, she threw it hard into the wall, where it collided with a sickening crack.

For a long moment, all she could do was stare. The ferrets were dead, and she’d done it. And it had been _easy_. Terrifying, but easy. Her wrist was starting to sting, and she wiped her knife on her skirts before sheathing it and clamping her now-free hand over the wound. It didn’t feel serious. Slowly, her breathing evened out.

And then she turned and rushed towards the sound of the fighting.

By the time she got there—out of breath and rubbing at a stitch in her side—the battle seemed to be winding down. The ground was littered with dead ferrets and wounded Jaegers. Of course, that didn’t make it quiet—the ferrets were man-sized here, and they were still putting up a fight. Zeuxippe stood and watched the fight, knife in hand, until she spotted an opening— _there_ , one of them was about to swipe at Bogdan’s blind side. She took a deep breath and threw.

_Sss-thunk._

The ferret screamed like a person as it died. She closed her ears to it and drew another knife, and another. They hissed as they flew; if they didn’t exactly kill what she was aiming at, they at least struck their intended targets and not one of the Jaegers. (At least, she was pretty sure they didn’t. Roars of pain were hard to distinguish from roars of rage.) Somewhere in the chaos, she thought she heard Maxim scream and found herself snarling in response.

Eventually, she realized there were no more ferrets to kill. The corridor was eerily quiet, apart from the harsh breaths of the more badly-wounded Jaegers (most of whom were on their feet already, so she didn’t worry). She felt herself start to relax.

And then she heard Dimo bellow, “Hoy! Ve need a medic here! Hyu, dun move, hyu iz bleedink too much.”

Maxim’s response sounded strained and shaky. “Bah, Hy vill heal—iz only a scratch!”

Oh, no. No, that was not allowed. She started moving.

“Eediot, dot’z not a scratch—hoy!” Dimo’s head snapped up, meeting Zeuxippe’s gaze as she picked her way over ferret corpses towards them. “Ken hyu sew?”

She stared at him, gaze flicking over him for only a second before sliding over to where Maxim was sprawled on the floor by his knee. There was a lot of blood; the front of his shirt and jacket were shredded to pieces, and she thought (she hoped she was wrong) that she could see part of his intestines exposed to the air. She wondered what the likelihood was of actually fainting like the heroine in a tragic romance. “I—yes. I can sew…”

As soon as she reached him, Dimo pressed a needle and thread into her hands. Both appeared to have seen better days, but the needle was clean. “Hyu sew, Hy hold effryting togedder. Hy dun tink ve ken move him.”

Maxim tried to prop himself up on the arm not pressed to his stomach, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Hy iz sittink _right here_. Und Hy iz fine, really—“

Dimo smacked his ear sharply. “Schott opp.”

“If you’re not going to listen to him, listen to me.” Her voice wavered as she sank down on a relatively clean patch of stone next to him, and she hated it. “You are—“ From this vantage point, she had a better look at the slash across his stomach and the blood that still poured from it. There were entirely too many visible organs. “Oh. You’re bleeding.”

Maxim met her eyes and flashed her a smile. “Iz nottink, sveethot. It vos a glorious death, yah?”

“Don’t talk like that!” Grabbing his arm, she moved it off his abdomen for a clear look at the wounds. The slashes on his chest weren’t as bad—she could see bone and muscle, but they hadn’t hit anything vital. The gut wound was the worst. “Dimo, hold the edges together. Maxim, don’t you dare move.” She could do this. It was just like stitching a flat seam on a shirt. There was no need to pass out, she firmly told her heart.

“Hoy, hyu ken’t—de vay ve iz made, iz secret, hyu izn’t supposed to—“

“ _Schott opp!_ ” Dimo’s clank hand was clumsier than his real one, but both of them were steady as they pieced together the edges of Maxim’s muscles and skin. “Ve dun _got_ a Heterodyne right now, ve got somevun who iz really goot vit der sewing, und hyu iz goink to deal vit it.”

Maxim still looked like he wanted to argue, but Zeuxippe had just started piecing together the edges of his stomach muscles—carefully, with her tiniest stitches—and he held still to watch her work.

Zeuxippe didn’t even think he was breathing; as viscerally disturbing as that was, she was thankful for anything that let her focus. Time was measured in stitches now, in how long it took for her to reconnect blood vessels and how many pulses of his heart she felt. Dimo used the remains of Maxim’s shirt to keep the blood free of her needle. Even as she sewed, she could see the deeper parts of the wound closing, stitches being absorbed as though they were never there. Her knees burned where they met the stone.

Bent over her work as she finally closed his skin up, she heard him murmur to Dimo, “Great cook, good vit der knives und der patching-opp…Hy am goink to _marry_ her, hyu know.”

Dimo grumbled, “Goot, mebbe she schtopp hyu doink schtupid tings like lettink hyuself bleed to death.”

Finally, the wound was closed. She took a breath, feeling abruptly exhausted, and lifted her head. Around her, the Jaegers had picked themselves up and shambled off, though a few of them had lingered to watch her sew. There were far fewer ferret corpses in the hall; if nothing else good came out of the day, she at least suspected the Jaegers would be less hungry. “I’ll try.”

Maxim grinned at her. “Haff Hy told hyu Hy luff hyu yet today?”

She sighed at him, unable to keep a note of fondness out of her voice. “I suppose I can deal with you saying it again.”


	19. in which family is discussed, and an addition is expected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place...mmm, a couple months after the wedding? Let's go with that.

“Ah, Maxim? There’s…something you should know.”

He tilted his head, slanting a glance over at his wife ( _his wife_ , even if it still felt too new and strange in his mind to even think of himself as someone’s husband) as he hung his cloak up on the hook by the door. She was curled up on one of their kitchen chairs and not meeting his eyes. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. “Vot’z de matter?”

She met his gaze. “…Uh. Well. The doctor said I am…most likely pregnant.”

His legs buckled just as he managed to sit on the chair opposite her. Yeah, this was bad. This was exceptionally bad. “Oh.”

Something of his terror must have shown on his face, because Zeuxippe reached out to take his hand in both of hers. Her fingers were cold. “Maxim?”

He took a deep breath, and another. “…Iz nottink. Hy chust…vell, iz a _shock_ , yah?”

She squeezed his fingers, frowning lightly at him. “You look like death. I mean…I know we never really talked about it much…ever…but…are you upset?”

 _Are you angry,_ he could hear, and hastened to shake his head. “No, no! It’z not dot—hyu vould mek a _great_ momma. Iz…it’z _me_ Hy am vorried about. Look, de only really goot poppa Hy effer met vos Ognian, und iz not like Hy vos eksectly teking notes, hyu know? Hy vos de uncle vot gave dem presents und schpoiled dem rotten.”

She scooted her chair closer, twining their fingers together in a manner that was utterly heedless of his claws. She’d never minded the occasional scratch or nick in her skin. “…And your father?”

He stiffened. Some unwelcome memories needed only a slight nudge to float to the surface of his mind like a corpse, even after being weighted down for centuries. “Hy killed him.” When she only looked at him, he felt the need to add, “Iz a _long_ story.”

She shrugged, a little twitch that meant she was bothered and trying not to be. “I think I have enough time to listen.”

Still, part of him hesitated. The last time he’d brought it up…red fire, he couldn’t even _remember_ the last time. “Iz hyu sure, mebbe hyu vant to put de coffee on—“

“ _Maxim_.”

He sighed. “Hokay, hokay. My poppa vos Baron Vasily Dyatlov. Dun vorry, he vosn’t nobody really important—in Russia de minor nobles schpring opp like mushrooms on a log. Und Hy vos de second son, de _schpare_. My brodder Alexei, he vos the vun dot vos goink to inherit effryting. My poppa luffed him, dey vere like two peas in a pod. Each _rotten_.” He snorted. “Bot, hyu know, Hy could haff dealt vit dot. Hy could haff dealt vit dere schtupid rules like ‘hyu ken haff a man killed, bot hyu ken’t ponch him in der teeth vhen he insults hyu sister, hyu dun do dot to de son ov de tsar.’ Hy hated it, but dot part vosn’t zo bad.”

She stroked his hand with her thumb, a comforting gesture that only made him feel a little bit better. “What was?”

He huffed grumpily. “Hy vould say dey treated me like a serf, bot dey treated de serfs vorse. Nottink Hy did vos de right ting. Hy vanted to join de army? Ho, no, Hy had to schtay at home und mek nize vit effryvun, had to haff de perfect reputation. Gott knows my brodder vos no prize. He beat vun ov de servants zo bad, she nearly _died_ , und nobody eefen said ennyting. My poppa laughed und said she deserved it for beink slow.” That hadn’t been an isolated incident, either. “Und he beat me, too, for sayink it was wrong.” Neither had that.

Zeuxippe considered this. “…Do you suppose Lady Agatha might be willing to build a time machine? Because now _I_ want to kill him.”

His wife was deliciously bloodthirsty; he’d made the best choice. “Hah! Und dot vosn’t eefen de last straw.” Even centuries later, the memory of the pair of them scheming made him growl a little. They’d been so disgustingly smug, so sure that the younger members of the family would fall in line. He and Zofiya hadn’t even been _involved_. “Hy had a leedle sister—Zofiya, ve called her Zofi. Dey sent her off to Paris for finishink school—hyu know, chust in case livink vit us hadn’t turned her into enough of a lady. Hy thot, goot, mebbe she marry somevun dere und get out of Russia. Den vun day Hy found out dey vos settink opp marriages for us, _vitout_ us.” He grimaced. “Zofi vould’ve been married to zum bastard old enough to be her grandpoppa. Hy couldn’t let dot heppen. Und Hy chust _couldn’t_ let my brodder become de baron—he vos chust az bad! Zo I…vell.”

“So you killed your father and brother.”

When she put it like _that_ it sounded _awful_. He shook his head. “Killed my poppa. Pinned it on my brodder—it vos easy, Alexei alvays drank a lot und he vos a mean drunk. Left und joined opp vit de Heterodynes passink by before ennyvun found out—Hy dun tink dey effer did. Neffer saw my sister again. Dot’s de only part Hy regret.”

She looked down at their linked hands, eyes following the way the light reflected off their wedding rings. “It sounds like you actually did a good thing, though. You saved your sister.”

“Ho, yah. Hy did, bot…” It was a good thing she wasn’t looking directly at him; he didn’t think he could meet her gaze. “Iz zumtink hyu should feel _bad_ about, killink hyu poppa, yah? Eefen if hyu dun ektually…feel bad. Ennyvay, he vosn’t vot hyu call a goot role model, zo hyu ken see—“

Her grip tightened sharply around his fingers, and he looked up into her glare. “ _Maxim_. You are nothing like him—like either of them. You have nothing to feel bad about, and you are not going to turn out like your father.”

“Hyu dun know dot, vot if it’z in de blood—hoy!” She’d flicked his nose! That was just rude, really.

And now she was shaking her finger in his face. “Do you think I’m going to _let you_ turn out like that? Honestly! This is our child we’re talking about, and he or she is going to turn out _just fine._ ”

He opened his mouth to protest more—she couldn’t see the future, he hadn’t told her everything of his life up till taking the Jaegerdraught, she didn’t know how historically awful Russian nobility was, they were worse than the _Sturmvorauses_ —but then he took in the expression on her face. What came out of his mouth instead was “…Vell, dey’ll haff hyu for a momma, ov cawze dey vill.”

She smiled. “Damn right.”

A sudden thought occurred to him. “…Hy really hope iz a gurl, though. Hy promised vunce Hy vould name my first son after Oggie, und Hy dun tink he’z forgotten yet.”

That made her giggle, and suddenly everything was alright again.


	20. in which maxim's girlfriend is better than yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place early in Maxim and Zeuxippe's relationship, shortly after Zeuxippe and her friends and family move into the caverns.

“Hoy, Oggie, did hyu hear—“

Oggie sighed heavily. “Iz dis goink to be de vun vit de lunch line?”

Maxim shot him a glare and returned to cleaning his sword. “Hyu didn’t eefen hear de best part, she stopped de whole fight—“

“Chust by clearink her throat und glarink vhen eefen Miz Domnica haz to smek pipple vit zumtink, yez, Hy _know_. It vos only hyu whole regiment braggink about it aftervards, iz not like Hy haffen’t heard it a hundert times.” He rolled his eyes, leaning more heavily on the log he was using as a lookout spot. There was a bird hopping along the ground in front of him, too small to be worth trying to catch.

“Becawze it’z amazink. Hyu iz chust jealous dot hyu dun haff a gurl like dot.”

Oggie turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Dot’z nottink. _Hyu_ remember Marica.”

Maxim stiffened. “She vos alright, yah, bot de first ting Zeuxippe did vhen she met me—“

If Maxim mentioned olives _one more time_ , Oggie was going to break his jaw. “De bar fight at Mamma’s. Marica kept valking into dot vit nottink bot a fryink pan to tell me Hy vos goink to miss dinner. De whole fight opened opp around her!”

“Dot dozn’t count, hyu know effryvun vos scared ov her already.”

“Ho yah? Vot about vhen ve vos chust married, und dey vere goink to send my squad out vhen she vos ekspectink Angela enny day? She asked General Zog, hoy ken Hy talk to hyu, und five minutes later Hy hear ‘hyu iz not leavink until de month ends.’” He huffed. “Eef it vosn’t for _her_ , Hy vould haff missed seeink my first daughter.”

He appeared to be contemplating this point. “Schtill dozn’t count. Pregnant ladies iz alvays more terrifyink. Und _Marica_ didn’t _fight_.”

Oggie raised an eyebrow. “Hyu _met_ my gurlz, yah?”

Maxim snorted, dismissing that as irrelevant. “Zeuxippe’s first fight, she vosn’t eefen _trained_ , und she killed a monster bigger den her. Vitout eefen gettink hurt! Und she vos all ready to kill zum more vhen Hy rode up…” Oh, no, there was a wistful sigh.

This called for drastic measures. “…Hokay, mebbe hyu gurl iz a better fighter den Marica vos. Bot my vife vos de better _cook_.”

Maxim looked like he was going to punch him. Oggie sort of hoped he did. “Excuse hyu?”

“Hyu remember my vife’s bakink! Und dot ting she did vit de pork und der apples…” He sighed at the memory. “Ennyvay, sammiches dun count. Dot’s _assembly_. Hy dun eefen know if hyu gurl ken cook at _all_.”

Maxim dropped his sword in the grass and lunged at him, knocking him off the log. Oggie rolled with the impact, slammed him back-first into the ground, grabbed his bad arm just above the elbow, and _squeezed_. It wasn’t something he could put pressure on for long—just as quickly as he’d moved, he had to jerk his head out of the way of a punch that would’ve broken his nose.

Maxim snarled, “Hyu take dot _bek_. She’z a great cook!”

Oggie shrugged and let him up. “Hokay, but Marica vos better.”

He grimaced as he sat up, plucking a few blades of grass out of his hair. “Hyu knew her for longer. Chust hyu vait, Zeuxippe vill be amazink.”

Oggie sat back on his log, leaning his halberd against his leg. There was an unusual smell in the air. “Und hyu iz goink to be dere, eh?” He hesitated. “Hyu izn’t _serious_ about her, iz hyu?” If Maxim actually _was_ , Oggie would eat his hat. _Without_ mustard.

The answer came back so quickly that it couldn’t possibly be a lie. “ _Yez_.”

Oggie stared at him. Maxim’s tone suggested that trying to make fun of him would end in blood; while he didn’t usually mind that, there were some things you just didn’t mock too much. And he remembered that feeling, too. “…Vell, Hy guess hyu _iz_ in luff, den.”

Maxim grumbled, “Schott opp.”

“Hokay, bot hyu know dis means Hy vos right—“

And then, of course, the first group of deer-lion constructs attacked them.


	21. in which zeuxippe meets gkika

There was blood in her hair and caught under her nails and staining the trousers she’d grudgingly borrowed from Dana “becawze ve dun haff time to teach hyu to do all de fightink in a skirt.” She was fairly sure none of it was hers, but a rip in her shirt and a dull burning feeling in her side suggested otherwise. The stench of smoke clung to her; all she wanted to do was bathe and sleep. _At least_ , she thought, _the battle is over. I can rest now._

She was picking her way through the streets, trying not to trip over shambler corpses, when she heard Maxim thunder up behind her on his horse. “Zeuxippe! Hy vos _lookink_ for hyu.” His voice held more than the edge of worry.

She turned to blink up at him; after a moment, she managed a smile. He didn’t look hurt; she doubted any of the blood splattering his clothing was his. “ _I_ was looking for a _bath_. But I guess you’re a good second prize.”

“Hrmph! Hyu iz heartless.” And then he paused, sniffing. “…Hyu iz _hurt_. Come on, Hy vill tek hyu to Mamma’s.”

“I thought that was a _bar_ —ah!” She clung to him as he lifted her into the saddle in front of him, wincing as his hands brushed against the wound in her side. “Ow.”

He went very still behind her. “Iz bad? Hy mean, it didn’t schmell bad, bot—“

She shook her head. “I think it’s just a scrape; I landed on the gears when that hive engine collapsed. I’m fine, really.”

His arm slid around her waist, avoiding any injuries this time, as he tugged her back to lean against him. He was wonderfully warm, and she felt herself start to relax as he informed her, “Hyu vere better den chust ‘fine,’ hyu vere _amazink_. Hy vish hyu could haff seen hyuself out dere.”

Between the steady gait of the horse under her and the solid presence of her lover’s body behind her, Zeuxippe was beginning to wonder if she could fall asleep sitting up. “I only threw a few knives. You were the one in the middle of everything!”

He huffed, breath stirring her hair. “’A few knives.’ Yah, hokay, Hy tell General Gkika about hyu in dot fight und ve see if she says it vos chust a few knives. Vitch hyu ken stab me vit if Hy lie about hyu bravery.” Patting her hip tenderly, he added, “Und hyu _vere_ brave. Hy told hyu hyu should haff taken a hat.”

She jabbed an elbow into his ribs. “They all tried to kill me once I took out that hive queen! When was I supposed to get a hat?”

“Sveethot, dot’s de best time to get vun—ho, ve iz here.” They’d stopped in front of…well, Zeuxippe was going to _call_ it a bar, for lack of a better word. The posters all seemed to feature women in a lot less clothing than she’d be comfortable wearing in public. Maxim paid them all precisely no mind as he slid down from the saddle and lifted her neatly to the ground. “Mamma teks care ov us vhen de Heterodyne ken’t, und right now Lady Agatha iz dealink vit de really hurt vuns.”

“…I’m not a Jaeger, though,” she pointed out as she followed him inside. “And really, it’s just a scrape.”

The inside of the bar was empty; Maxim led her through a door and down a flight of stairs which creaked slightly under their combined weight. “Vitch hyu got from landink on a hive engine. Eefen _Oggie_ vould be vanting it cleaned after dot.”

“Alright, but if this Mamma Gkika is a _general_ I’m sure she has more important things to do than—oh.”

They’d turned a corner into a spacious and brightly-lit room full of beds, which were in turn full of Jaegers in various stages of “not badly injured.” ***** Young women—human women, Zeuxippe was pretty sure—were doing the bandaging and the suturing necessary to get them back in fighting shape. She spotted Gkika even before Maxim pointed her out—she was as tall as a man, and the needlelike fangs exposed when she spoke to a patient were too shiny to be false.

Maxim raised his voice to be heard over the chatter. “Hoy, Mamma! Ve got a vounded varrior here! Dis iz Zeuxippe.”

“Maxim! You make it sound like I’m losing a limb—“ But then Gkika was striding over to them, and she fell silent. The hat didn’t help, but the Jaeger general was imposing even without it; Zeuxippe looked at the solid muscles exposed by her rolled-back sleeves and knew she could break her in half without raising a sweat. She swallowed hard and looked up into her face. “Um. It’s…an honor to meet you, General Gkika.” Part of her brain was aware that she should bow or salute or _something_ , but all she could do was stare.

Gkika looked her over critically. “Hokay, haff a seat. Vot’z hurtink?”

There was an empty bed near the door, and she sank down on it. “Just my ribs, but I don’t think anything’s broken. It’s a scrape—really, General, it’s nothing.”

“Oh, dollink, chust call me Mamma. Az for hyu injuries, Hy vill be de judge ov dot. Shirt, off.” When she hesitated, Gkika waved a hand. “Iz nottink ve haffen’t seen before.” The glare she levelled at the surrounding Jaegers was enough to get them all suddenly very interested in the ceiling.

Zeuxippe carefully unbuckled her knife harness and unbuttoned her shirt, pulling it open to expose the bleeding scrape where her left side had crashed onto an exposed section of the hive engine machinery. The skin around the wound was starting to bruise; Maxim sucked in a breath at the sight. “Dot haz to hurt.”

Gkika eyed the wound, frowning, and reached for a spray bottle labelled “Pyrocaust’s Apocalyptic Antiseptic, Mk. II.” “How’d hyu get dot?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Maxim beat her to it. “Hive engine collapsed under her, she landed on de gears.”

“…” Gkika put the antiseptic back and picked up another bottle labelled “Mk. VII.” “Hy gots to hear dis.”

Zeuxippe winced, both from the antiseptic—which burned worse than the original scrape—and from Maxim’s expression of glee as he started narrating her part in the fight. The worst part was that she couldn’t even really object, because he wasn’t lying. She had thrown a knife into a hive queen’s eye, she’d crippled or killed more giant spiders than she was comfortable even _seeing_ , and she’d definitely jumped up on a hive engine to stab the geisterdame who’d been about to activate it when she’d ran out of throwing knives.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still exaggerating, and at one point she had to speak up sharply. “I didn’t kill that bug singlehandedly! It was Dimo that finished it off, I was just…there.”

“Und hyu kept it busy vhile Dimo vos doink de schtabbink, yah? Dot counts! Oh, Mamma, hyu should haff seen her, she vos great! Und she saved Lady Agatha!”

Gkika was washing and bandaging Zeuxippe’s ribs; as such, her sudden grin came from a much shorter distance than Zeuxippe was used to when dealing with Jaeger fangs. ****** “Deed hyu, now!”

She grimaced a little. “She was working on a death ray when the spider riders broke through. I had to do _something_.”

“So she runs in like a Smoke Knight--Hy svear, Hy barely eefen saw her. Hy get a leedle distracted by de fight, look avay for a minute—mebbe!—und look back und see nottink bot dead geister ladies und Lady Agatha safe und sound.” Maxim beamed at her.

It had been five minutes. Five minutes of leaping up onto a spider’s back, stabbing the rider, and scrambling away so that the other geisterdamens’ return strikes would hit each other instead of her. Five minutes of slashing spider legs out from under them, at one point picking up a fallen geisterdame sword for its longer reach before being forced to drop it in order to roll out of the way of a venomous bite. She felt her face heat. “I did my best.”

Gkika clapped her on the shoulder, beaming. “Modest und a great fighter! Hy _like_ hyu. Enny time hyu come here, de drinks iz on de house!”

She knew her face had to be bright red. “It was just what I had to do. I couldn’t let her get killed.”

“Mm-hmm. How many fights hyu been in, Miz Zeuxippe?”

She blinked. Counted in her head. “…Including this one? Um. Four.”

“Und Hy iz goink to _marry_ her.”

Gkika chuckled. “Vit a record like dot in her first couple ov battles? Hyu’d better!”

 

 

 ***** Fewer than three fractures, or not having any internal organs exposed.  
 ****** Maxim, naturally, not included. Other Jaegers tended to keep slightly farther away, barring the occasional exuberant hug from Dimo or Oggie. *******  
 ******* Or, on one memorable occasion, Jenka.


	22. in which there is tea

When the first words Maxim heard upon meeting Zeuxippe for breakfast were “We’re out of coffee,” he knew it was going to be a bad day.

Still, he couldn’t help but question her. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he feared. “Vot hyu mean, ve’re out ov coffee?”

She sat down on the chair next to his with a growl, nearly spilling her tea and porridge. “I mean we are out. There is no more. We are coffeeless.”

He took a spoonful of his own porridge—he’d arrived too late for them to still be serving bacon or eggs or those little waffle things Domnica made—and thought about asking if they’d also run out of sugar before deciding against it. His girl looked irritated enough already. “At least ve got tea?”

She growled into her mug.

“…Iz goot tea, though!”

She raised her head and stared flatly at him. “Maxim, I have seen you eat bugs. _Live_ bugs.”

“Und zumhow hyu believe me vhen Hy say Hy luff hyu cooking.” Alright, he hadn’t actually _tried_ his own mug of tea, but surely it couldn’t be too bad? He took a healthy gulp and prepared to be smug and right (not very smug, though, that was rude).

…Wow. He set his mug down and stared at its contents quizzically.

Zeuxippe left off ladling porridge into her mouth to inform him, “That’s because I’m prepared to believe bugs might not taste horrible and it is therefore possible to like them as well as my cooking, whereas I _know_ what makes good tea—which, by the way, is still decidedly not coffee—and this is definitely not it.”

He sipped at his tea again. And stared at it again. “…It dun taste like ennytink. Vhere did ve get dis from dot it don’t _taste_ like ennytink?”

“It doesn’t even taste like _caffeine_. I don’t even think there’s any _in_ it. It tastes like hot leaf juice and despair.” This wasn’t stopping her from drinking it, but he suspected it was only because she needed to wash down the porridge. “If you happen to run across any clanks that run on coffee…”

“Sveethot, dollink, Hy vill bring hyu bek a whole _vat_.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Have I told you you’re my hero?”

Terrible tea or not, his day was looking up. He smiled, pulling her into a proper kiss. “It might haff slipped my mind. Mebbe hyu should say it again.”

(After fighting the Coffee-Boiling Clanks of Doctor Pequod the next week, seeing her face made the burns all seem worth it. Getting to share the coffee afterwards was even better—especially once they added the chocolate left over from Spruengli.)


	23. in which zeuxippe has an unexpected option

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adi_duck prompted me with ""Maxim and Zeuxippe, after Maxim hears that Agatha is going to be making jaegermonsters and Maxim's entire--let's call it "species"--his entire species and everything he stands for is not going to go extinct. It's the kind of news you celebrate differently with different people, yeah? How does he celebrate with his wife?"
> 
> ...and then I left the actual celebration in a footnote. Whoops.

She’d just fed Sofia and put her to bed when she heard the front door open with a bang. “Zeuxippe! Sveethot, did hyu hear?”

Oh, no. She kept her own voice to a hiss, barely audible to her own ears but perfectly so to a Jaeger. “Maxim! I just got her to sleep. I swear, if you wake her up…”

There were the rustling thumps of his boots and cloak being discarded before his footsteps—now much quieter—sounded on the stairs. ***** When he poked his head around the nursery door, she was pleased to see him looking appropriately contrite. “Sorry, sorry. Hy chust—iz such _great_ news…” His gaze softened as he slipped into the room and saw their daughter. “Hallo, pretty, look at hyu!”

“Maxim. Sleeping. You know, that thing that we want her to do _more_ of?”

He huffed, settling into one of the extremely squashy and sturdily-upholstered rockers the von Mekkhans had been persuaded to donate. “Hyu und hyu logic. Hy helped mek dot, Hy tink Hy ken brag a leedle.”

She sighed fondly. “You know, my grandpa still thinks she’s going to wind up looking like our side of the family.”

Maxim leaned over the side of the cradle, completely ignoring the mobile he immediately smacked his head into. At least it didn’t jingle. “Hy tink she looks more like me.”

As much as her grandpa hated to admit it, Zeuxippe knew Maxim was probably right. Sofia’s eyes were a darker blue than anyone on her side of the family, and the wisps of hair that were starting to come in were pitch black. “Our poor daughter.”

“Hrmph! _Ennyvay_.” Carefully, he got to his feet again. “Hyu vill vant to hear dis.”

She closed the nursery door behind them as they padded down the stairs. “Tell me over dinner, I am starving.”

“…Iz _late_ , hyu didn’t eat?”

By this point, most of the house smelled like goulash, but somehow actually entering the kitchen was still a bit of a shock to her system as the realization of impending dinner hit it. Luckily, there wasn’t much of a limit on how long you could keep goulash warm. As she ladled it into bowls, she informed him, “I was waiting for you. So, news?”

As he took his bowl—and his usual seat at the kitchen table, which had somehow wound up being the one closest to the stove and potential second helpings—he grinned broadly at her. “De Lady iz goink to be making new Jaegers!”

She sat down with a thump. “What. _Really?_ ”

“Yah! Hy vos on duty—hyu know, making sure Meester Tarvek ektually remembers to eat at least vunce a day, hyu know he forgets dot but at least he izn’t as bad az Meester Gil who haz to be dragged to bed—ennyvay, Lady Agatha rushes out ov de Green Labs und goes ‘Hy figured it out! De trials vorked!’ From vot Hy gathered she’d been testink de Brau on mice or zumtink—und she found zumtink dot meks it _better_.” At her skeptically raised eyebrow, he clarified, “Dozn’t keel zo many pipple. Vun in five hundert, mebbe.”

Her stew still smelled appetizing, but she suddenly found that she was less hungry than before. “…Wow. So…there’ll be more Jaegers.”

He shook his head a little, though not at her words. “Hy neffer thot—Bill und Barry couldn’t schtand us, und effryvun who knows de Lady knows she vouldn’t vant to use de Brau eef zo many vould die tekink it. Hy thot Aurelia’s batch vos de last vun. Und now…dere vill be more.” His grin was sudden and blinding. “Zeuxippe, ve iz goink to _live!_ ”

His joy was contagious, and she found herself grinning back. “That’s fantastic!”

“Hy _know!_ ” He gestured excitedly with his spoon as he talked. “De Lady hasn’t schtarted givink it out yet, bot Hy bet hyu dere’s already a list ov volunteers. Dana says—“

Her eyes narrowed. She’d gotten closer to Dana—now Lieutenant Vasilescu—over the two years since her wedding (that the woman was surprisingly good with infants didn’t hurt) but she was still wary of her on principle. “…Dana says what?”

Maxim sat back in his chair with the slightly shifty expression she’d learned to associate with him delivering news he didn’t think she’d like. “She says she thot hyu’d be on it. Hy said, mebbe vhen Sofia iz older…”

She made herself ignore her initial shock. It wasn’t like she hadn’t _thought_ about it—the story of a girl taking the Jaegerdraught to be with her lover was a staple in local fiction, and there’d been a period in the caverns where she’d been very aware that he was going to outlive her (probably _forget_ her)—but they always ended in the girl’s death and she refused to be a character in a tragedy. A Jaegerdraught that was nearly safe had never factored into her imaginings. “…I… _maybe_. Maybe. But I don’t know if I’m that loyal yet. I haven’t spent much time with Lady Agatha to know her.”

He nodded. “She told me to tell hyu dot invitation to go to Moldova vit us vhen Miz Lilith iz older schtill schtands.”

Her goulash was cooling, but it was still edible. “…You know, I think I will.”

“Vunderful.” His knee bumped hers under the table. “Bot hyu know, for now Hy tink dis news calls for a celebration…”

“…Food first.” She couldn’t help but grin. “And _then_ we celebrate. Properly.” ******

***** It had taken a full year to get him to stop leaving them on the floor instead of in the handy little tray by the front door.  
****** By some miracle, ******* Sofia actually slept through the night.  
******* Especially since their bedroom was next door to the nursery and she hadn’t found a gag Maxim couldn’t bite through. ********  
******** Yet.


	24. in which our lovers are most rudely interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is The One With The Porn In. I am sorry. Takes place sometime in the caverns during the timeskip.

“…Hy ken break dese, hyu know. Iz silk, not _steel_.”

Zeuxippe rolled off him briefly to admire the view. Her lover looked good like this, honestly, sprawled out naked on their white sheets. The flickering yellow lamplight sank into his skin and made all that long dark hair of his shine, and the red silk ribbons they’d commandeered to tie his wrists to the headboard (“a leedle tighter, sveetie, it dun hurt”) only completed the picture. She grinned wolfishly down at him. “Then pretend you can’t. I’m going to need those later, you have to be _good_.”

He nearly pouted, an expression that might have looked sincere (for once) if he didn’t also shamelessly run his eyes over her. “Hyu iz evil.”

She straddled his hips, eyes gleaming as she looked down at him. “You love when I’m evil, you can’t complain at all.” It was terribly tempting to rake her nails down his chest, catching ever-so-slightly on the scars that littered his torso. So, of course, she did it.

His sharply indrawn breath was sweet to hear; the way he arched against her was even better. “Ho, vatch me. Iz hyu goink to tease me all night?”

“…Mmm…” She pretended to consider that, nails tracing patterns over his stomach and pressing just hard enough to leave marks behind. “…Maybe. If I feel like it. Or I _could_ just stop everything and go take a shower, it is getting pretty… _hot_ in here.”

He wriggled, rolling his hips against hers, and actually snarled when she shifted her weight away from him. “Zeuxippe!”

She leaned down to kiss him; as she pulled away, lips hovering a scant inch above his, she informed him, “If you keep complaining, I am going to gag you.”

Judging by the light in his eyes, this didn’t seem to faze him at all. Hmm. She made a mental note of that for a later date. “Und if Hy beg?”

“Well.” Her grin definitely held an edge of triumph now. “I might be persuaded to be lenient eventually. But for now, you are most definitely at my mercy.”

“Ho no, Hy iz at de mercy ov a beautiful lady, voteffer vill Hy do—“ His breath hitched as she lowered her mouth to his neck, nipping him sharply. “Dot’z _cheatink_.”

The first time he’d put his mouth on her throat she’d nearly melted into a puddle right there in the street, but Zeuxippe decided that mentioning that could wait for a time when she wasn’t nibbling and licking a trail down his neck, feeling his pulse hammer under her lips. Part of her wondered, almost dizzily, if Jaegers had the same impulse to bite just a little bit harder—and no sooner did the thought cross her mind then her mouth met his collarbone, and before she could decide whether it was a good idea she bit down _hard_.  

The sound he made as he bucked his hips under her could be (embarrassingly) (accurately) described as a whine. His voice came out in a growl. “Do dot again…”

“…Hmmm.” She tilted her head, considering the imprints of her teeth in his skin. “Was that a demand I heard?”

Muscles flexed under his skin as he shifted the bare minimum he could without snapping the silks. “Sveethot, dot vos me _beggink_.”

She grinned at him, savoring the way her blood heated at the roughness of his voice. “Say ‘please.’” Delicately, so lightly that she knew it was maddening, her fingers slid over the planes of his stomach.

“…Hyu really iz evil, Hy iz goink to remember dis vhen iz hyu turn…” But right now, release clearly wasn’t going to come any time soon unless he cooperated, and it only took a few moments of teasing for him to throw his head back and growl, “Zeuxippe, _please_.”

The idea of teasing him some more flitted through her brain, but didn’t linger; he wasn’t the only one who _wanted_. Teeth nipped at his throat again, lightly over his jugular and windpipe but hard enough to make him snarl and writhe when she turned her attention to his neck muscles and the line of his collarbone. When the thought _maybe they’ll leave marks_ swam through her mind, she tasted blood in her mouth and realized it was his.

And was rewarded with a snarl of “ _Harder_ ,” so she did it again. And again, a consolation for having to leave off petting at him so she could brace herself with one hand and use the other to guide him to her— _there_ , she rolled her hips and sank down on him and _oh_ that was good, that was perfect—

The door creaked; a Jaeger’s voice sounded on the other side. “Maxim—“

Her head snapped up. “The _devil_ —“

Oh. The door was ajar. Though she could only see a sliver of his face, the Jaeger on the other side looked as mortified as she felt.

Underneath her, Maxim snarled something she suspected was untranslatable and followed it up with, “Hy iz _busy_. Hyu _know_ dot. Unless de caverns iz on _fire_ , it ken vait till tomorrow! Und eef Hy see hyu before den, hyu iz _lunch!_ ”

The door slammed shut. “Sorry! Sorry, Hy vill chust—“

“ _Leave_.” Maxim’s voice wasn’t quite a roar, but the threat was there.

As the sound of a Jaeger running very quickly in the opposite direction met her ears, Zeuxippe squeezed her eyes shut. “That. That was _awful_ , it’s going to be all over the caves by dawn…” She was never going to live this down, her night was ruined—

The first lazy, almost hesitant thrust effectively derailed her train of thought. “…Ken Hy suggest a distraction?”

“Yes _please_.”

Maybe her night wasn’t ruined after all. (It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Especially once they decided it was her turn.)


	25. in which zeuxippe falls in loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place roughly two and a half years post-canon. (Math, not my strong point.) Dimo, Oggie, and Maxim are the captains of Agatha’s, Gil’s, and Tarvek’s guard respectively. (Gil doesn’t really need a guard. What he needs--and gets--is a qualified dad.) The trip to Moldova they’re all on was first mentioned in Ch. 23.

Zeuxippe hadn’t even been in Moldova for three days, and she was finding herself counting the minutes until their trip was over. It wasn’t even that the company was bad—she was with her husband, Dimo, and Ognian, and between them and the rest of the Heterodynes’ guards they had a lively gathering when they got together. No, it was that the Lady Heterodyne— _Agatha_ , it had taken so long for Zeuxippe to get used to calling her that—had planned this trip for diplomacy purposes and intended to follow through. Which meant that instead of fighting (or doing much of anything) she, Baron Wulfenbach (“please call me Gil!”), and the Storm King (“you might as well call me Tarvek, everyone else does”) were doing daily rounds of tea parties and social calls. Social calls which Zeuxippe was invited to, as the apparently least terrifying member of the retinue. ***** During which she had to make small talk and try to be friendly. She wasn’t even allowed to bring her sewing. ******

They had just been shown into the palace of some local noblewoman Zeuxippe couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of when the alarms blared; as she got her blades clear of their scabbards, the windows exploded inward in a shower of stained glass and a swarm of vaguely humanoid clanks poured through.

One of the clanks being steered through the window had a human pilot, who raised a megaphone to his mouth to bellow, “Your reign is over, Heterodyne!”

When Agatha pulled a death ray from her purse and plunged them all into action, Zeuxippe learned two things very quickly.

One, clanks that could spray fire and flash brilliant lights were very hard to focus on, never mind aim at.

Two, it was difficult to fight even in melee range when the way the things landed shattered the tiles below them.

Still, she did her best. It had been a while since she’d fought so many enemies at once, and robotic clanks didn’t have hearts to skewer or arteries to open, but the principles were the same. Stab, slash, keep moving, don’t let them catch you standing still. Dance, like Violetta had taught her. ******* The rest of the field always seemed to fade away when she fought; she was vaguely conscious of the Jaegers and Lady Heterodyne’s consorts holding their own, but since she didn’t hear anyone screaming in pain she dismissed them. Survival was the main objective—survival, and protecting Agatha.

And then there was a boom, and the wall she’d been about to back up against exploded. She’d been turning towards it; the force threw her to her hands and knees, sending her knives skittering across the floor, before the stone and masonry crashed into her and rolled her on her side. It was too quick for her to scream, not that she had the breath.

She didn’t have the breath for much of anything, really. Nothing felt broken, but her ribs would no doubt be one massive bruise by the next morning; she tried to take a breath and nearly sobbed at the pain the resulting coughing brought. It was very dark under the rubble. When she tried to move—maybe she could shift it enough to get out, or at least get some air—she realized first that there was no room, and second that her leg was wedged in a crack in the floor.

Tears came to her eyes. This wasn’t fair. She was trapped under a damn wall in thrice-damned Moldova and she was going to die and never see her daughter again—

“Zeuxippe!”

Wait. That was Agatha in full Spark voice. She cleared her throat. “Under here!”

“I’ll get you out—just hold still!”

Even better, it was followed by the distinctive clanks and whirrs and clangs—and occasional scream—that was a Spark inventing something on the fly. Metal claws lifted the rubble off and away, freeing her leg and almost dazzling her with the brightness of the battlefield beyond. Agatha was gazing down at her with concern, offering her the hand that wasn’t holding the jury-rigged contraption she’d used to free her. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

She shook her head, staring up at her. Haloed by the fires of burning clanks, engine oil and blood smeared on her face and caught in her golden hair, Agatha Heterodyne looked like one of the classical goddesses she’d seen in pictures. And she’d saved her _life_. She understood, now, how her husband and friends could die for their Heterodyne, if this was the Heterodyne in question.

After a moment, she found her voice and let Agatha help her to her feet. “Uh. No. I’m—I’m fine.”

Agatha smiled at her, warm and brilliant. “Good.”

In the middle of the battle (which was winding down considerably now that Zeuxippe got a look at it), someone—not her husband, not the consorts, not a Jaeger—screamed. It was quickly followed by the familiar sound of her husband laughing. “Hah, hyu thot hyu could face de Heterodynes, eh?”

Agatha called out, “Maxim! Bring him to me, I want to talk to him.”

Zeuxippe eyed her sideways. “…Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, I really wouldn’t if I were you.”

“I’m surrounded by my best guards!” The look Agatha gave her made her heart thump hard. “And the battle’s nearly over, look, the clanks are winding down. He can’t hurt me.”

As soon as Maxim (uninjured, thank every god that might listen) dropped the battered, slightly singed Spark in front of them, Zeuxippe felt a flash of rage burn through her and ignite. This was the man that had tried to kill _her Heterodyne_. Her husband was looking her over with great worry, but reassuring him could wait until later. There was a knife in her hand before she knew it. “ _You_.”

The Spark struggled to his knees, glaring at her through thick-rimmed spectacles. “I—“

Agatha started to say something, but Zeuxippe was already moving forward, blade pressing against his throat with just enough force to make it clear she would use it if she had to. “The Lady Heterodyne came here for peace and diplomacy. How _dare_ you, mister?”

“Actually, I’m a _professor_ —“

Zeuxippe’s knife shook where she held it to his jugular. “ _Did I say you could talk_.”

He shut up.

She continued. “I don’t know your name, I don’t know what you were trying to do, and I do not give one _single_ fuck. Lady Heterodyne is not like her ancestors—she is _good_ and _kind_ and _honorable_ and—and I will not stand for idiots like you trying to destroy everything she’s worked for, do you understand me?! You should be thanking her on bended knee, using those damned clanks of yours to—to build her a statue in the town square! I’d be happy to cut your throat right here, but she in _all her generosity_ has elected to spare your miserable life. Now, she wants to talk to you, so I am going to step away. And you are going to _shut up and listen_.”

As she edged away, letting Maxim rest a bloodstained hand on her arm, Agatha stepped forward with a death ray that was perhaps only slightly brandished in a threatening manner. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

The Spark grinned sickly. “Professor Heinrich Sillitoe, and I want your _death_.”

Zeuxippe saw his hand move to grab something in his coat, but before she could fling her knife into his eye he keeled over, jaw falling open and foaming in a way that didn’t look survivable.

Agatha leaned over him, frowning. “He’s dead. Hrm, what’s this he was holding, something clockwork-y…”

“Agatha! Don’t touch it!” Zeuxippe’s warning came too late, because as Agatha’s fingers brushed the device there was an unholy grinding screech; before she could pull her back, all the destroyed clanks were surging together, parts shifting and recombining to form a loosely cube-shaped mass of metal which was spraying fire at them.

She lunged for it, vaguely aware of Gil and Tarvek volleying comments behind her (“Cuthanger’s Combination Array? That’s _old!_ ” “My lightning generator still has a charge, let me just—“ “I’ll cover you!”) and a bolt of lightning sizzling over her head. Viewed one way, of course, a cube-shaped flamethrower made out of an amalgamation of clanks was incredibly dangerous. Viewed another way, it was a collection of holes filled with moving, fragile parts. As her blade slammed into a vital-looking joint she rolled away, scrambling over the broken tiles to take cover behind a fallen chunk of wall and throw more knives from range in case that hadn’t done the trick.

When another bolt of lightning struck the cube and it promptly exploded, showering the room with thankfully-not -high-velocity shrapnel, she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens for putting Violetta and Dana on the earth.

Gil whooped, punching the air. “Good old lightning generator! Hey, Tarvek, any time you want to hand the crown over—”

“It’s _Storm_ King, not Lightning King.” Tarvek rolled his eyes. “Besides, the crown looks awful on you and you know it.”

Zeuxippe straightened up, shaking shards of metal and stone from her hair, and picked her way across the debris to Agatha. The rage was back now, sizzling through her veins. “Agatha. Clay. Heterodyne.”

Agatha blinked at her. “What?”

She took a deep breath, glaring up at her. “You could’ve been killed! I told you to just kill him, I told you not to touch the unknown Spark thing—what do you do, you let him get close _and_ you touch the unknown Spark thing. What do you think any of us are going to do if you die, huh? Who’s going to look after Lilith and Barry—yes, I know they have two perfectly good papas and a castle and an entire town that loves them, that is not the _point_ Tarvek so don’t you start—what are they going to do without their mama? You have an army! Let them—let _us_ protect you!” She huffed, raking a hand through her hair. “I’m starting to see why the Heterodynes made Jaegers, because if your descendants are anything like you _someone_ has to make sure they survive!”

Agatha’s face was red. “…I…you’re right. Sorry.” She paused. “Does that mean you’ll join my guard? Officially, that is? I could use your skills.”

She cast a glance at Maxim, got a grin in return, and nodded. “You could use my _sense_ , you mean.”

“…Well…that too.”

Behind her, Oggie quietly slipped a few coins into Dimo’s palm. He’d definitely lost that bet.

 

 ***** This had made Maxim, Dimo, and Oggie laugh themselves sick when they heard it.  
 ****** Apparently the sight of her holding sharp objects tended to unnerve people. She couldn’t imagine why.  
 ******* Violetta would probably be sad to miss this fight, Zeuxippe thought, but she’d drawn the short straw for this trip and was stuck helping the grandparents watch the children. ******** Barry was still too small to be any real trouble, but Sofia and Lilith had just gotten the hang of running. Zeuxippe almost felt bad. *********  
 ******** The Heterodyne heir, the daughter of the Jaeger captain of the Storm King’s guard, and the future Storm King himself. No pressure.  
 ********* Almost.


	26. in which zeuxippe's friends are no help at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place about two weeks after Zeuxippe's wedding.

True, Zeuxippe was a respectably married woman now (as respectable as you could get when your husband was a Jaeger, anyway), but there were some traditions that couldn’t be broken so easily. Even if they were meeting in The Sausage Factory in Mechanicsburg instead of the little corner café in their old town, even if they’d scattered to various jobs and houses in the city and had a bit more trouble coordinating their schedules, Coffee Sunday was more sacred than any church service.

When they all sat down, Anneliese was already grinning at her. Zeuxippe braced herself. “So, how was your honeymoon?”

“How was Bucharest?”

Anneliese turned that grin on Maria, eyes gleaming. “What, you think she even _saw_ Bucharest?”

Much to her displeasure, Zeuxippe felt her face heat up. “I did! It was very nice, actually.” Technically it wasn’t even a lie; they had passed through the streets on their way to the hotel, and their rooms had had a wonderful view. They just hadn’t…actually _left_ them. Much. The bed had been very sturdy and very comfortable.

“Oh?” Domnica looked curious, but by the gleam in her eye she suspected Zeuxippe wasn’t telling her the whole truth. “Where did you go, then?”

“…” My, her coffee really was delicious. “…Ah…”

“Her _husband_ probably wore her out too much for her to leave the room.” Anneliese waggled her eyebrows. “Jaegers have amazing stamina, didn’t you know?”

This time Zeuxippe wasn’t the only one going red; Maria’s face turned almost the same color as her hair. “Anni, really!”

Zeuxippe raised an eyebrow. “And how many Jaegers have _you_ …dated?”

“…Hmm, well.” Anneliese considered this, counting them off on her fingers. “There’s Tomasz and Boris and Petru and Tudor and..."

“Wait, _Tudor?_ Really?You didn’t tell us about that!”

Domnica blinked. “How did you have the _time?_ ”

She shrugged casually. “I’m dating them all at once, it’s very convenient for all of us—oh, don’t look at me like that! The Heterodyne is doing it with her Storm King and the Baron’s son, after all.”

Zeuxippe shook her head slowly, draining the rest of her coffee in hopes that the jolt of caffeine would knock the mental images she had not asked for out of her head. “The Heterodyne is different. I—you—the Jaegers don’t mind? Really?”

“Oh, for them it doesn’t matter as long as everyone’s happy. I like that idea, don’t you?”

She leaned across the table, peering more closely at Anneliese. “You’re never allowed to say Maxim influences me too much _ever again_. Wait a minute, let me check to see if you’ve spontaneously sprouted fangs recently.”

Anneliese actually looked a little taken aback for a moment. “About that.”

“Hoo boy.”

She took a bite of her cake and washed it down with a dainty sip of coffee, not quite meeting Zeuxippe’s gaze. "I was talking to your husband at the reception—you know, when we’d all moved on to the beer—and it turns out we’re…well, related."

“Related,” from a Jaeger’s point of view, meant only one thing. Zeuxippe tilted her head and did a few seconds’ worth of mental subtraction. Given Anneliese’s nearly-white blonde hair and that Maxim’s hair had been black, it was unlikely, but… " _Please_ tell me you’re not his daughter.”

Anneliese shook her head hastily. “Oh, _ew_ , no. I’d’ve had to have gotten shamefully drunk to forget it if that was the case. Distant descendant; I'm something like his great-great-great-granddaughter or something."

She considered this. "...I...really wish I could say I was surprised. At all."

Maria sighed. “You know, I can see the resemblance.”

Leaning back in her chair, Anneliese cracked a bright smile. “Yeah, so. Welcome to the family, great-great-great-step-grandma Zeuxippe.”

The glare she levelled at her held no real heat. “You are awful.”

“It runs in the family!” She sniffed. “I bet Maxim didn’t even notice all the work I put into your underthings for your wedding night.”

Really, Zeuxippe was a married woman now with a wedding ring and everything. She was _experienced_. She shouldn’t go bright red when one of her best friends brought up the idea of what had happened on her wedding night. “Uh. Yeah…he noticed.”

Domnica piped up with, “Did they even survive the night?”

She sank into her seat. “…Uh.”

Anneliese arranged her face into an expression of shock that almost looked genuine. “Zeuzi! I worked really hard on those!”

Smoothing back her hair, she tried to at least sound less flustered than she felt. "Most of them are intact, don’t worry. But…well. The corset lacings weren’t so lucky.” Maxim had cut them in one single, slow drag of his claws, parting the ribbons like a hot knife through paper and pressing just hard enough to raise lines on her skin. The memory made her shiver, so her tone was a bit sharp as she continued, “You can't possibly tell me you meant for _those_ to last, though. Since you know Jaegers _so well_ , I’d imagine you have plenty of experience with the kind of damage they can do to your clothes."

Anneliese briefly made a face. “My boys are careful if they know what’s good for them. I thought you and Maxim might get more than one use out of those laces before they broke.”

She blinked, feeling dread well up within her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her friend’s grin was bright, cheerful, and as wicked as any Jaeger’s. "Oh, you know exactly what it means. When Jaegers walk in on someone, they like to _gossip_."

In that moment, Zeuxippe knew it wasn’t possible to catch fire from overenthusiastic blushing. If it was, she would have been the first recorded incident. Face crimson, she clapped her hands over her mouth and let out an involuntary screech of embarrassment. If for some reason fear of Maxim’s wrath didn’t work, she’d been _sure_ her threats would have kept that incident quiet! Apparently, not even vowing to serve a Jaeger their own tongue as a sandwich would shut their mouth.

At least she wasn’t the only one mortified; Maria squeaked, eyes wide. “Zeuxippe, what did you _do?_ ”

Anneliese sounded like she was on the verge of snickering. (Domnica actually _was_ snickering, which didn’t help.) “You know that one chapter in _The Seraglio of the Iron Sheik_ …?”

Maria choked a little. “My _God_ …”

Zeuxippe squeezed her eyes shut, covering her face with her hands. “You are all horrible and disgusting and I hate you.”

God help her, Domnica sounded like she actually wanted to know. “How does that even work, though? I mean, he’s bigger and stronger than you—and, you know, made of sharp edges…”

Irritated, her voice came out in a sharp hiss. “He does what I tell him to do!” *****

Anneliese whistled lowly. “Ordering around a Jaeger in bed. Wow, between this and the fighting you’re getting pretty scary, Zeuzi. Are you sure we shouldn’t be checking _you_ for fangs?”

She huffed grumpily. “If I sprout any, I’ll let you know.”

 

 

 ***** Admittedly, about half the time it was the other way ‘round, but Zeuxippe was taking that knowledge to her grave if at all possible.


	27. in which maxim is very silly indeed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Maxim’s going to exaggerate the sources of his scars, he probably should check to make sure they don’t have much more reasonable explanations. Zeuxippe is much better at being logical. Takes place near the beginning of their relationship.

“Okay, but _that_ never happened.”

“It deed! Hy svear! Look, Hy schtill haff de scar—“

As Maxim pulled off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt—normally a sight she keenly looked forward to—Zeuxippe found herself rolling her eyes instead. “You did _not_ wrestle the war rhinos of Doctor Selfrage, Maxim.”

He pouted huffily at her, indicating a scar on his ribs that looked like nothing so much as the indent of an enormous fingernail. “Und vot hyu call dis?”

She leaned over on the bed and peered at it. “Not a gouge mark. Looks like a claw.” She paused. “And besides, didn’t Selfrage’s war rhinos have that exploding problem? Where they went boom if their horns hit anything too hard? You would’ve wound up with more scars…” She let her eyes trail over the solid muscles of his torso for a moment, lingering on the marks of over two centuries of war. There were more of them than she’d expected. “Well, more scars from _that_ , anyway.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Hokay, den, hyu iz zo schmott. Vot iz _hyu_ sayink Hy deed?”

She tilted her head, thinking hard. In the weeks she’d known him, she’d never known Maxim to make up entire battles out of whole cloth, but—like most Jaegers, honestly—he was given to exaggerating his actual role in combat. “I bet you killed one, but you didn’t wrestle it. Selfrage also had those giant sloths— _that’s_ where you got that scar.” She couldn’t help but smirk as she patted his shoulder. “There’s no shame in admitting it.”

Maxim still looked disgruntled. “Sez hyu. Dot’s a _schtupid_ story. Hy got disarmed und clawed off my horse by a giant sloth—yah, verra heroic!”

“…Did you kill it?”

“Ov cawze!”

“On foot, without your sword?”

He nodded.

She scootched over to lean comfortably against his side; he unfolded his arms to slide one around her waist. “Then I think you’re being very silly, because that was definitely heroic.” After a moment’s thought, she clarified, “Probably really messy, but heroic.”

“Excuse hyu?” Though he raised an eyebrow at her, he was starting to smile. “Hy iz alvays perfectly reasonable. _Hyu_ iz de silly vun.”

“Me?” She couldn’t help but snort. “Nuh-uh. You’re the one who punches giant sloths in the face or tries to ride war octopi or takes one look at a flying, ten-story-tall construct with teeth like spears and says ‘I’m going to kill that!’ Those are the actions of an extremely silly person.”

“Hy iz a Jaeger, sveethot.”

“…Also, you think orange-and-green striped socks are at all acceptable, ever.”

He looked down at his socks. “…Dimo made dese, iz not my fault. Hy tink he’z colorblind or zumtink.”

She eyed them. They were _really_ unfortunate socks. “I think you must be right. Okay, the socks can slide. But you’re _still_ sillier than me. Somehow, you don’t think your war stories are impressive enough, when you know that’s not why I care about you.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, he was actually blushing. “Vell, izn’t dot de pot callink der kettle black. Hyu iz der vun dot goes, ‘Maxim, dun tell dem Hy knocked hyu over de head vit an olive jar, dot vosn’t ennyting schpecial. Ho, dun brag about me zo much, it vos only a little construct.’ Hyu var stories iz important! Hyu should be proud. Und hyu iz not, und dot iz silly ov hyu, vitch is vhy Hy do de bragging for hyu.”

And now it was her turn to go pink. “Maxim! Really, they’re not…I’m no warrior, not like you and the other Jaegers. I don’t even know how to fight.”

He leaned back, sprawling them both on the bed; it wasn’t quite wide enough, and he grunted a little as his head hit the wall. “Dot chust meks dem more impressive! Hyu dun know how to fight, und hyu ran out und killed a var construct becawze hyu friend vos in danger. For hyu, dot iz schpecial. Vhen hyu learn to fight, mebbe den hyu ken say ‘ho it vos chust a little ting.’”

She blinked. “When I—you think _I_ could be a fighter? I’ve never picked up anything sharper than a kitchen knife!”

He grinned down at her. “Hyu ken alvays learn. Hell, _Hy_ could teach hyu.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Probably not de sword, though, Hy dun tink hyu could lift mine much. Mebbe Hy ask Dana if she has vun schpare.”

Zeuxippe shrugged, nestling into his side. “…I’ll…think about it.”

Really, she would. Later. Much later.


	28. in which zeuxippe changes forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agatha’s tinkered with the Jaegerbrau recipe to make it less lethal, and a surprising number of new Jaegers are eager to serve this new, “boring” type of Heterodyne. Even with the Heterodyne, the Storm King, and Baron Wulfenbach all working for peace, Europa still has enough enemies to make for some pretty fun fights.
> 
> Zeuxippe’s motives are more sensible.

“…Sofia, sweetie, you know what’s going to happen, right?”

Her daughter—fifteen and grown tall, now, straight dark hair clipped short as a boy’s—looked up at her and nodded firmly. “You’re going to take the Brau. And you’re going to—going to _change_ , but you’ll recover. You’ll be _fine_.” She still sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

Zeuxippe took a deep breath. “That’s exactly right, I’m going to be just fine. Your Auntie Agatha won’t let anything bad happen to me. But—Sofi, you know that you’re going to have to be very sensible and smart while I get used to it, right? Your poppa and Uncle Dimo are going to be busy helping me; I might…not be able to keep your cousins out of trouble for a little while. I might not _want_ to keep them out of trouble. You and Aunt Violetta and Uncle Moloch will have to be in charge of their safety.” She paused. “And also, the house. Don’t forget your chores.”

Sofia swallowed hard. “Okay, Mama. I can do that. I know the new Jaegers are a little…strange, for a while.” Oh, no. Oh no, her voice was sounding dangerously wobbly. “You’re still going to be my mama, though? Right?”

She pulled her into a tight hug; Sofia’s knife handles dug hard into her side, but she ignored it. Her voice was muffled into her daughter’s hair as she whispered fiercely, “I will _always_ be your mama, Sofi. No matter what I wake up looking like, or acting like, I will always love you and I will always be your mama. Never doubt that.”

Sofia sniffled into her shoulder, but nodded. “Okay.” When she pulled away, wiping her face with the back of her hand, her eyes were hard. “I know that most Jaegers live, now. But if—if you die, I swear I will _never_ forgive Aunt Agatha.”

Zeuxippe made herself smile in a manner that was hopefully reassuring. “I’m not going to die. I’ll see you when I wake up, honey.”

“…Okay.”

The lab Agatha dispensed the Jaegerbrau in had been refined and upgraded over the years once she’d done the heavy work of changing and testing the formula. It was soundproof, dimly lit, and connected to Mamma Gkika’s via a convenient underground tunnel. There was a clank-powered stretcher waiting when Zeuxippe slipped in.

Agatha smiled nervously at her, goblet in hand. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. She’d never really mastered standing at attention—it was a stupid thing to do when your fighting style depended on constant motion, and Agatha never cared—but she found herself making the effort anyway. “I am.” Something made her add, “So is Sofi.”

Agatha winced a little. “Is she upset?”

“Ah...no. But she did say she’d never forgive you if I die.”

The smile was a little more genuine now. “Then it’s a good thing you’re almost guaranteed not to. Alright, repeat after me. I—state your name—do so swear…”

As she repeated the words, her voice only trembled a little. This was _right_. It would change her—she didn’t know how long it would take her to grow used to her face in the mirror, couldn’t even begin to guess what she might look like, had only the other new Jaegers to use as a benchmark for how her personality might change—but it was what she had to do. The Heterodynes—the new generation—were growing up bright and kind and as good as their parents, but they were Sparks and not known for their common sense; if their own inventions didn’t try to kill them, the enemies chomping at Europa’s borders surely would. She _couldn’t_ let that happen, couldn’t let another war tear her world apart. If becoming a Jaeger would let her help keep Europa safe, then she would do it.

When Agatha handed her the goblet, she drained its contents in one gulp. She had a moment of absurd clarity— _not bad, tastes like anise and copper_ —before her world went white-hot with pain.

She’d given birth; at the time, she’d thought nothing could possibly be more painful. She knew she’d been wrong. Labor only had one major source of agony; the Brau ripping through her seemed to set every nerve on fire. Someone—not her, it couldn’t be her, she didn’t sound like a dying animal, did she?—was screaming. It sounded like it was a long way off. She thought she felt herself hit the ground, hat rolling away somewhere, but the impact was nothing compared to the feeling of what she was _sure_ had to be every one of her veins being filled with molten lava.

Her eyes refused to focus, but she thought she saw Agatha moving towards her. When someone—something—tried to lift her, she knew nothing more.

~~

She awoke to dim light and pain. (It wasn’t as bad as the Brau, though. Nothing could ever be as bad as the Brau.) Her limbs felt like lead, and she didn’t even want to think about trying to move her fingers and toes; they felt like spikes had been pushed through them. Her mouth was a mass of agony; she suspected she might be able to wiggle her tongue, but if it involved trying to touch her teeth with it then she wasn’t going to.

Everything was blurry—and then she blinked, and it was all too sharp. She recognized the room as one of Mamma’s, set aside for newly-turned Jaegers to recover in. But she’d never seen it like _this_. She could pick out every imperfection in the stone walls, could see an ant crawling across one of the blocks.

From somewhere just out of her peripheral vision, Gkika spoke up. She sounded delighted. “Hyu iz avake! Took hyu long enough, keed.”

It seemed to take a thousand years, but she managed a croaking sound she hoped would be taken as _how long was I out?_

“Hyu vos unconscious for t’ree days. Hyu husband vos gettink vorried, bot Hy told him hyu vould be fine, und hyu iz! Come on, here’s a mirror, look at hyuself.” Gkika reached out, a strong clawed hand helping her struggle into a sitting position. “Dun mek enny fast movements.”

Oh, that wasn’t so bad. The throbbing pain of her hands and mouth seemed to be fading; she focused on it, delaying the moment she would have to turn her gaze to the mirror. She couldn’t avoid it for long, though—it seemed to draw her attention like a magnet, and she finally saw what the Jaegerbrau had wrought.

Her eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were yellow instead, the same bright gold of her wavy hair, and slit-pupilled like a snake’s. That was…odd, but she blinked several times and thought the look would probably grow on her. Her skin looked normal enough—gray-tinged, slightly pointed ears, but normal—except that when she tilted her head it caught the light with a faintly iridescent golden sheen. Experimentally, she reached up and poked her own cheek with a fingernail—no, a claw now, she had _claws_. And they were sharp as needles, too—she yelped reflexively as she drew blood, and it took her a moment to realize that it didn’t really hurt. The wound healed as she watched, but just the scent of fresh blood made her nostrils flare and sent a jolt of alertness through her system.

“Not bad, yah?”

She nodded. Hrm. Working her jaw silently, she watched new razor-sharp fangs flash in the mirror. They were white and even, and she could taste her own blood in her mouth where her old teeth must have fallen out. Carefully, pausing between each word to gauge the best place to position her lips and tongue, she ventured, “I…tink I’ll get used to it.”

“Ho, she’s opp! Velcome to de family, little sister!”

Oh, no. Dana was standing in the doorway (lounging, really), wearing an enormously fanged grin. “Ve knew hyu’d mek it. Und look at hyu, hyu iz so shiny! Hy dunno how hyu iz goink to do de schneaky ting now vhen hyu iz all gold, bot it dun matter.”

After a moment’s blind groping, she found her hat on the nightstand and settled it on her head. “W—“ Ow. Now her lip was bleeding. “Vhat do you mean by dat?”

“Vell, hyu know.” Dana shrugged carelessly. “De schneaky iz alright for a human, bot for a Jaegerkin…iz a little dishonorable, yah? Vot’s de use ov fightink if hyu enemy dun see hyu comink?”

She stared at her. _Dishonorable?!_ The day before it would have stung; now, suddenly, pure rage ripped through her. How dare Dana, honestly! “ _You_ —“

“So hyu’ll probably haff to learn how all over again, bot dun vorry, Hy vill hold hyu hand _effry schtep ov de vay_ —“

Her body still ached, still felt stiff and dizzy and off-balance, but she abruptly didn’t care. Faster than she’d ever moved before, she was lunging out of the bed to tackle Dana onto the floor. She raked her claws across her face and felt blood well up; when Dana rolled and flung her into the wall in response, she screeched in fury and leapt at her, balling up her fist for a punch regardless of the sharp sting of her own claws digging into her palms. Dana grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard, but she still had another hand and—oh, Dana grabbed her other hand, flipped them both so that she was pinned on the floor, and had lowered her head so that her fangs were in the perfect position to rip Zeuxippe’s throat out.

Something resembling sense gradually started to trickle back into her brain. “Uh.”

“Hyu yield?”

Nodding would be a very bad idea. “…I yield.”

Dana was grinning as she released her. “Sorry about dot, iz tradition to see how long it teks for de new vuns to try to murder zumtink. Hyu iz pretty level-headed!”

Zeuxippe huffed and sat up, glaring at her. She couldn’t muster up any real heat. “So dey sent you, because you’re just dat goot at being annoying.”

“Hyu shush, I know hyu love me.” Dana paused, holding up a hand covered in a slightly viscous layer of some greenish liquid. “Uh. Mamma? Hy ken’t…ho, Hy dun feel so great…”

Gkika strode forward, peering at Dana’s hand as she offhandedly administered an injection of something that glowed. After a moment, she picked up Zeuxippe’s wrist. “Congratulashuns, keed, hyu iz venomous.”

Zeuxippe blinked. “Venomous? I don’t see vhere…” Gkika let go of her so she could turn her wrist and get a better view. It looked normal enough at first glance, but she ran her fingers along the outside of her forearm and found a spot at her wristbone that felt like something hard was stuck just under her skin. When she flicked at it with a thumbnail, she levered out a bony spur. “Huh.” Experimentally, she clenched her fist and watched as the action made venom bubble up and drip along it. Somehow, she doubted she’d have to keep manually tugging out the spur every time.

Dana grinned at her. “Dot’z gonna be _great_ for de schneaky!”

The grin was infectious; her own stretched wider than she was used to, but it felt right. She wiped the venom off on the nightgown someone had changed her into. “It vill be, von’t it?”

“Ho, yah, vunce ve figure out vot it doz. Open hyu mouth.” Automatically, her jaw dropped open just in time for Gkika to swab the inside of her cheek, drop the swab into a beaker, and frown at the results. “Vell, hyu schpit izn’t venom. Dot might be goot.”

She briefly contemplated life with poison saliva, and winced. “…Dat actually sounds _great_ …”

There was a commotion down the hall; ears twitching, she caught a cry of “That was my _mother!_ ” and was on her feet and running before she heard Agatha’s warning response of “She might still be very volatile!”

Well, she _tried_ to be on her feet and running, anyway. Standing up was easy enough, but any sudden movements made her wobble like a drunkard. Her limbs felt loose and shaky, disconnected to the rest of her; the tiny bit of effort motion took simply wasn’t there anymore, and it was a subtle but intensely disorienting shift. Gkika’s and Dana’s hands appeared at her elbows, and Dana flashed her another grin. “Easy now, yah? Dey’re on der vay.”

“But I—“

Sofia rushed through the door, saw her, and stopped dead a foot away from her. She seemed smaller somehow; Zeuxippe could smell her nervousness, but it was overridden by the sense of _family_ and _mine_ and _blood of my blood_.

Still, she swallowed. “Sofi…”

“…Hi, mama.”

Oh, she was being hugged tightly. All was right with the world. Slipping her arms free of her fellow Jaegers’ (sisters’) grips, she ventured a (very careful) hug in return. “You see? I’m right here, safe and sound.”

“…Lilly, Barry, and Klaus threatened to help her stage a revolution if you weren’t, you know. You’re their favorite aunt this week.” Agatha— _her Heterodyne_ —was beaming at her. “I didn’t tell Maxinia that they said that, by the way, which you’re welcome for.”

She broke her daughter’s embrace, taking a few hesitant steps forward before sinking to one knee. This was right, too. Agatha _smelled_ right, smelled like home and goodness and all the things she swore she’d die to protect. “Thank you, Lady Heterodyne.”

Agatha briskly pulled her to her feet. “Oh, no, you’re not going back to that after me being Agatha for fifteen years. No ‘Lady Heterodynes’ and genuflecting from you.” Her smile was as bright as the sun. “You’re the one who vowed to keep me sensible.”

Oh, right. She smiled back. “And now I can keep doing it for—“

She broke off. She knew that scent even through the haze of alcohol that covered it, knew the sound of those boots on stone, she’d know them in a crowd of thousands. “Maxim!”

He caught himself on the doorframe, almost skidding with the momentum. His eyes widened as he saw her; the expression of awe on his face could still make her heart race, even after so many years of marriage (they’d have so many more now!). “Vell, now. Look at hyu.”

She tossed her hair back and looked him in the eye, making sure he saw the way she’d changed. “You like it?”

“Hy luff it.” His eyes gleamed as he crossed the floor to her, pulling her into his arms. “Hy luff _hyu_ —Hy ken’t _vait_ to see how hyu iz on de battlefield now.”

She grinned sharply. “Later.”

Fighting sounded fun—in fact it sounded like a _lot_ of fun—but it was definitely something for later. Right now she was being enthusiastically kissed by her husband (with their daughter making fake retching sounds behind them), and everything else—relearning the limits of her body, figuring out the exact effects of her venom, being introduced to the rest of her new “siblings”—could wait.

She had plenty of time.


	29. in which maxim is granted a promotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few days after Dimo boards the train to Paris.

“Vot hyu mean, Dimo’s gone?”

“I _mean_ , vhen Lady Agatha took de train to Paris, he jumped off und vent vit her!”

“…Hyu know, Hy vish Hy could say Hy vos surprised.”

“Schpeak for hyuself, Hy didn’t see dis coming. Hy knew he hated de papervork, bot I didn’t tink he’d leave. Who’s gonna run dis place vhile he’s gone, iz vot Hy vant to know?”

There was a collective pause.

“…Could ask Jenka?”

“Yah, if ve _find_ Jenka. How about Oggie? He vos vild, he’s got to be…preddy…schmott…vhy iz hyu all lookink at me like dot?”

“Haff hyu effer _met_ Oggie?”

“Hokay, mebbe not him. Maxim? Hy know he’z not known for der brains, bot he’z not schtupid either. Und he ken read pretty good!”

“Yah, let’s see if…” Sniff. Sniff. “Hoy, Hy tink I schmell him.”

Maxim didn’t wait around after that. He wasn’t as light on his feet as Zeuxippe or Dana—and he certainly wasn’t as silent as Jenka, who had honed her skills on Smoke Knights for centuries—but he could put on a decent turn of speed under the right (dire) conditions. ***** As he ran, boots sounding much too loudly on the stone, his mind whirled. This called for drastic measures. They’d find him if he went to the stables, none of his regiment would be at all sympathetic, Jenka would laugh in his face…

He took a hard left that almost sent him overbalancing into the wall and sprinted for the room he shared with Zeuxippe. Nobody would dare disturb him there. If he explained the situation, surely she’d see his point of view.

She was curled up on their bed, stitching a tear in one of her shirts, and she looked up curiously when he burst in. “Maxim, what’s the matter?”

He slammed the door shut behind him, striding over to throw himself onto the bed next to her. “Dimo left. Dey vant me to be de acting general until he gets bek.”

She stared at him. “Back up. Dimo _left?_ ”

He nodded miserably. “Vit Lady Agatha. Dey’re probably halfvay to Paris by now, Hy dunno vhen dey’ll be bek. Could be months. Could be _years_. De bastard chust left us vitout a vord.” His bad hand clenched into a fist of its own accord; it hurt, but the ache helped him focus. Dimo wasn’t there to punch or shout at, after all.

Zeuxippe frowned, fingers tightening on her sewing needle. “And they want you to be acting general.”

He grimaced at the opposite wall. “Yah.” Really, when he saw Dimo again he was going to break his damned neck. How dare he leave them hanging like this? It was a betrayal, was what it was, even if he had done it to accompany Agatha.

And then, because his day was clearly destined to get worse, someone knocked on the door. Loudly. “Hey, Maxim!”

Damn it all to hell. “ _Vot?!_ ” Maybe if he sounded angry enough they’d go away.

“General Dimo’s off on a trip; ve tink hyu ought to take over vhile he’s gone.”

He started to say no. He wanted to say no. ****** As he opened his mouth, though, he realized Zeuxippe was sporting the furrowed brow that meant she thought he was about to do something Incredibly Stupid and raised an eyebrow at her in silent inquiry.

She hissed, “Do it.”

His jaw dropped. As he stared at her, he felt a sense of acute betrayal well up in his heart. “Hyu—”

“ _Maxim_. Someone has to keep this place running. You know Dimo pretty well, you can probably make sense of whatever organizational system he used—and I know you’re good at looking out for people, I’ve seen you with your regiment!” She huffed quietly. “Besides, if you don’t they’ll find someone else who might be even worse at it than you’re thinking you’d be.”

He loved his fiancée, but he absolutely _hated_ when she was sensible at him. Especially when he knew she was right. Defeated, he heaved a sigh and raised his voice. “Hokay, hokay, _fine!_ Hy vill schtart tomorrow.”

“Bot—”

“Ve dun haff enough food? Iz dere sickness goink around? Iz de caves goink to collapse enny time soon?”

“No, bot—”

“Den Hy vill schtart de generaling _tomorrow_.”

As the Jaeger stomped away, grumbling something about lazy cavalrymen, Zeuxippe set her sewing aside and stretched, lounging back on the bed. “He could have had an important point to make, you know.”

The inch or so separating them was something Maxim could easily remedy, so he did. As she nestled warm against his side, he tilted his head to look down at her. “Do hyu care?”

She thought for a moment and shook her head. When she met his eyes, her own were gleaming. “So, interim General Maxim. I assume you have some ideas on how to spend your last bit of free time before taking on your duties?”

Well. Maybe the rest of his day wasn’t going to be completely terrible. He grinned at her. “Hy ken tink ov a couple.”

 

* Such as hearing that he was about to be promoted right past any chance of combat and into the single worst fate any Jaeger could imagine: a desk job.  
** In fact, he wanted to say a great number of things, mostly profane; “no” was only the first thing that came to mind.


End file.
